Battle of Two Fathers
by E. J. Morgan
Summary: Spencer is the newest and undoubtedly strangest agent of the BAU and very happy to be there. Suddenly, out of nowhere, his father appears, claiming Spencer is not safe with Gideon and the FBI, and wants to gain guardianship over him to 'save the boy from himself'. He will go to great lenghts to do this, even to court. The battle begins. Special guest appearance by Doctor Jason Bull
1. Chapter 1

"Checkmate." – Spencer said proudly, having just won against Gideon for the first time in forever at chess.

"Not bad, Kiddo. Not bad." – The older man praised him, feeling just as proud. The boy was definitely learning to think outside the box and the senior profiler was as happy about it as any father would be. Spencer was his protégé; his son in everything but blood.

They had finished a long and difficult case in San Francisco and were flying back to DC right now. They couldn't wait to get home and sleep in their own beds, hopefully undisturbed for at least 10 hours.

"I'm so tired, I could pass out right now!" – JJ said, yawning.

"I hear you." – Morgan agreed. – "I don't want to get up until at least noon tomorrow."

"Let's hope we won't get a new case right away." – Elle said, voicing everyone's fear. It wouldn't be the first time they had to handle cases back to back.

"We won't." – Hotch assured. – "I requested a week off for all of us, including Garcia. After this last case, we deserve it, and luckily, the director agreed."

Everyone visibly brightened and cheered at the news. Well, everyone but the youngest member.

"Spencer? What's wrong?" – Gideon asked although he already had a fairly good idea what could be the problem. He knew the young man didn't have a family to turn to and didn't really know anyone in DC either, since he didn't make friends easily and had only moved there for the job not so long ago. He probably hadn't even figured out yet where to buy groceries. A week without his team meant seven days being lonely and miserable.

Their youngest profiler just shrugged.

"Nothing."

"Spencer…"

"It's fine, really. I have a couple of new books I've been meaning to read anyway…"

Gideon sighed.

"Two books take about an hour for you."

"I'll read slowly."

"Then an hour and a half."

"I'll read _really_ slowly…"

"Well, I was thinking about inviting you to visit my old friend and colleague, David Rossi. He's an incredible cook and he has an enormous library that would entertain even you for weeks at least. And lots of stories to tell about the time the BAU was called BSU and it only consisted of the two of us. But, of course, if you're too busy, I wouldn't want to disturb your plans…"

A beat and then…

"NO! I'm not too busy!" – Spencer protested. – "Actually, I can read the two books in half an hour if I really want to. Otherwise, I don't have anything planned, so... I'd like to meet Rossi! He's a legend!" – The others snickered while the young man went on, his arms flailing as he was explaining excitedly. – "He's a former U.S. Marine and Vietnam War veteran, and retired with the rank of Sgt. Major! He was at a Recon Division and he even earned a Purple Heart! He's written five books and lectures and he even interviewed Charles Manson and Ted Bundy! Can you believe that?"

The senior profiler chuckled.

"Yes, Kiddo. I can: he's one of my best friends. I know him."

"Oh… yeah… I forgot."

Elle and JJ exchanged amused glances while Morgan gasped in mock-surprise.

"The genius is capable of _forgetting_? Who would have thought."

"Derek, Rossi is a real star!" – Reid insisted, not getting the sarcasm. – "He's done so much and he's so successful and he's not even _that_ old yet!"

"Spencer: Dave and I are the same age." – Gideon reminded the boy. – "I'd appreciate it if you didn't imply I'm old in any sense."

"Oh, no. I don't think you are." – The boy shook his head. – "Not for all the things you two have already done."

"Make it 'not for _anything_', Kiddo."

Reid just shrugged. Meanwhile, even Hotch had a hard time keeping his famously straight face from cracking a smile. The kid was just too adorable; so naïve and clueless. Of course, everyone would seem old for him with his barely 21 years.

"So, when can we go and see him?" – The genius positively bounced in his seat.

"Let me talk to him first."

"What, he doesn't even know we're going? What if he's too busy? What if he's not home? What if-"

"Kiddo: calm down. Take a few deep breaths. I told you we'll go and visit him. If I promise you'll meet him then you will, all right?"

"Okay. If you're sure… I'd really like to see his library and hear his stories and-"

"You will."

"Fine. I believe you."

"Thank you."

Soon, they arrived back to HQ, closed the casefile as soon as possible and said their goodbyes to each other.

"See you in a week, guys!" – JJ waved, before disappearing in the elevator, closely followed by Garcia and Elle talking about what they were planning for their unexpected 'vacation'. Morgan was already on the phone with one of his sisters, telling her about how he'd arrive home soon for a few days to surprise their mother.

That left Hotch, Gideon and Spencer in the bullpen.

"That was great of you, Aaron. We really need some time off." – Gideon said truthfully. – "We've had so many gruesome cases lately, we're all exhausted."

"I really don't want the team to burn out. We all need a break sometimes." – Hotch agreed. – "So, when you'll be visiting Dave, tell him hi from me."

"You could come with us. Dave's always liked you very much, I'm sure he'd be happy to meet you."

"I'd like to meet him, too, but I have plans." – Hotch said proudly. – "I'm taking Haley to Hawaii for a second honeymoon."

"Great! Then the two of you have a good time." – The unit chief said goodbye and left as well.

Gideon turned to look for his surrogate son and found him staring at the computer screen in awe.

"Hey, Spencer. What are you doing?" – He asked, already having a good idea.

"I'm looking up everything there is on David Rossi." – Came the instant confirmation. – "Did you know he only wears shoes his own shoemaker makes for him? And that he has a mansion!? Six acres? And-"

"And did you know he's had three wives? All ex-wives now, of course. And his favorite dish is carbonara, I'm guessing that's what he'll prepare for us. And he plays chess, likes cigars and has family in Italy. I _know_ him, Spencer. He's my best friend. Soon, you'll know him, too. Stop looking up trivia and leave something for the personal meeting."

The boy blushed and apologized.

"Sorry… I'm just so excited."

"I know, Kiddo. It's fine. Come on, let's go home. He's expecting us tomorrow for dinner."

"Already tomorrow!"

"Yep."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"It really _is_ a manor!" – Spencer gasped as soon as he spotted David Rossi's house. – "It's _huge_! And beautiful!"

Gideon who was driving and had, of course, seen his best friend's house at least a thousand times before, just smiled to himself.

Usually, the boy was awkward and shy when meeting new people; it was one of his quirks of many that he just wasn't good with people. But now he was as excited as a little child would be before their first visit to Disneyworld and bouncing in the car so much that the senior profiler was glad he had thought to warn the boy to fasten his seatbelt. Otherwise, he'd have fallen out the window by now or something.

"Spencer, promise me you'll let the man breathe before bombarding him with questions. Please." – He had told Dave about the boy and his friend knew exactly what to prepare for but still… He never gave up hope to teach something new to the young doctor. Like patience, right now.

"Sure…" – As they walked towards the spacious porch, Reid took everything in with an expression of awe. – "Wow, he has a swing bed! And an outdoor BBQ grill!"

"I'm sure he'll let you try both."

"No way! Really? Great!"

Not for the first time, Gideon's heart squeezed painfully at the thought of what a twisted, dull life the boy must have led as a child to be this excited about a simple swing bed. It was as if Reid hadn't started to actually live his life until he joined the FBI about a year ago. It was just depressing.

The young man was still looking around when Gideon knocked on the front door, and he was intently staring at the nearby fishpond when their host opened it and greeted them.

"Jason! Long time no see, my friend! Oh, and this must be the famous Doctor Reid!"

Gideon sighed in relief when, after only a millisecond of hesitation, Spencer took the proffered hand and shook it. Good, they were at least making some headway in the department of social skills. One step at a time.

"How are you, Dave?" – He asked as they were led into the elegant patio. – "It's true we haven't met for ages… I'm sorry, it's my fault. We're so busy…"

"It's okay, Jason, I know what it's like. This is why I retired after all. Are you thinking about giving up your badge and gun in the near future?"

Reid's head whipped toward his mentor so suddenly that Gideon feared the boy's neck would hurt for days to come. He quickly answered in denial before he's get a panic attack right then and there.

"Nah. I still have lot's to do." – Meaning he still had a kid to raise. Luckily, Rossi, like the great profiler he was, seemed to realize his mistake and changed the subject with an apologetic smile.

"So, young man. Tell me about what you think of the FBI and the BAU." – He addressed the boy, trying to distract him from the previous question.

Naturally, it worked.

"Oh, I'm thrilled to be part of it! I can't believe Gideon thought I could do it when I myself wasn't sure. I'm still not sure. But I love it! And everyone is so nice and friendly, it hasn't ever happened to me before, and…" – And he went on and on, giving the ex-profiler the opportunity to observe him. For Rossi, the way the kid talked about his team and the work they were doing told a thousand times more than the words he was actually saying. His eyes sparkled, his hands were flailing around wildly, he smiled and chuckled and was generally just a bubble of untamed energy giving off the impression of a newborn foal hopping around its mother without a care in the world. There was no doubt about it: the kid was happy. – "… and Morgan always wants me to be more normal and tells me all the time how to look less 'geeky' and Hotch is real nice too because he-"

"Spencer. Your food will get cold." – Gideon interrupted him gently, reminding the boy that they had, while he was telling his story, migrated to the dining room to begin dinner. And Gideon had been right: Rossi had indeed prepared his favorite carbonara for them. It looked delicious. – "It's Dave's famous Italian recipe."

"It's also a secret." – The other man winked. – "But I can tell you this: it's the way you cook the spaghetti that does the miracle."

"It's wonderful." – Confirmed Spencer after finally trying it. – "I can't cook to save my life." – He added thoughtfully. – "I don't think anyone would let me near a stove to tell you the truth. I'm a bit clumsy." – He explained and as if to demonstrate his point, the fork slipped out of his hand causing some sauce to splash into his face. – "Oops…"

"No kidding…" – Rossi said, glancing at Gideon who just shrugged, clearly not bothered by the tiny slice of bacon now stuck in the boy's fringes. This sight was nothing new to him.

After dinner, the host gave them a tour around the house, mostly for the youngest profiler's benefit.

"This house is amazing!" – The boy gasped when he saw the biggest of three guest bedrooms. – "It's like a castle."

"Well, it might be amazing, but mostly it's too empty for my taste. So, you're welcome to use this room whenever you want to."

"Really!? I mean: REALLY!?" – Spencer all but shrieked. – "You mean it? You would want _me_ here? Why? I'm too skinny, too weird and-"

"Spencer, just say thank you and let Dave show you the library."

"Thank you! Can we go to the library now? Please?"

Rossi chuckled.

"Sure thing, Kid."

Soon, they stepped into the room that was decorated with red velvet and had shelves from floor to ceiling everywhere. Spencer stood transfixed in the door, staring at the never ending row of books with open mouth.

"This is the Paradise." – He whispered as if afraid to disturb the peace of this sacred place.

The two older men watched the boy's reaction in fascination.

"Would you like to step in, Spencer?" – Rossi nudged the young man gently. – "You can read something, you know."

"You mean… I can _touch_ them!?"

"Of course you can touch them. These are books, not relics."

At that, Spencer disappeared among the shelves faster than they could blink. It was almost as if the kid had teleported.

"I think we've lost him for a while."

"Jesus." – Was all Dave could say, before shaking his head to clear it. – "How about coffee?"

"Great idea."

"Kid, would you like some coffee?" – The ex-profiler shouted into the general direction he'd last seen the boy run but there was no answer. – "Kid?"

"Don't worry about it; we'll try to find him in a few hours."

Together, the two best friends walked out, leaving the youngster to read.

"I can see that you have your hands full, Jason…"

"I'm certainly never bored."


	2. Chapter 2

"… and that's how we finally managed to catch the UnSub." – Gideon finished his recounting.

Dave laughed at the adventurous story as he tried to imagine the always strict and proper Aaron Hotchner chasing a dog around the garden to get back the evidence the animal had snatched.

"This must have been a sight to see!"

"Oh, believe me: it was. And I think Morgan has photos to prove it."

"I definitely want to see them."

"I'll do what I can." – Gideon promised, glancing at his watch. It was already nearing 7 PM, Spencer had been in the library for over four hours. – "Do you think we should try to find him?"

"I have brownies if that will help lure him out."

"Depends on what he's found. But it surely helps _me_!"

"Then let's get the Kid so that we can eat."

As it turned out, getting Reid out of the library was easier said than done. It took Rossi and Gideon over five minutes to just locate the boy in the far corner of the room, surrounded by numerous enormous books. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and balancing a huge volume of The Workings of a Genius Mind on his stomach, with the young man himself… fast asleep!

"Spencer…" – Gideon whispered, trying to rouse the young man without scaring him. The soft approach didn't seem to have any effect whatsoever.

"Why has he brought so many books over here?" – Wondered Rossi, counting fourteen of them.

"He has probably read them all." – Answered the senior profiler who had by now pulled his charge into his arms and was trying to stand without having a long limb get caught on something.

"You're kidding."

"No. He can read real fast but it tries him out after a while. Would you mind helping me?"

Together, they carried the sleeping boy upstairs into the guest bedroom that had been named his and deposited him on the soft bed.

Rossi pulled the covers up to the slumbering young man's chin and Gideon brushed some hair out of his eyes.

"So, he reads fourteen books in four hours?" – The host whispered so as not to disturb the boy. – "I have never seen anyone do that."

"He can do many things you've never seen before."

"Just what kind of a genius is he?"

"Let's sit down in the living room and I'll tell you…"

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Half an hour later, Rossi had heard the entire story of one Doctor Spencer Reid and he was completely stunned.

"Honestly, Jason… Did you know back then what you were signing up for? This boy is not ordinary, that's for sure."

"I… can't claim I did, no." – The senior profiler admitted reluctantly. – "But I wouldn't change it for the world now."

"I believe you, my friend. He's adorable. But I'm sure your life has been more difficult lately than before."

"I can't argue with that. Every day is a learning experience and life is full of surprises now. Sometimes, I have to teach him things we taught Stephen when he was three. Other times, _he_ teaches _me_ something I never thought I'd ever see. And we're getting better. For example he shook your hand without problems even though he never does that. I think he likes you very much."

"What's wrong with shaking hands? Is he autistic?"

"Not officially."

The ex-profiler narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"And what about unofficially?" – Gideon just shrugged, unable or unwilling to answer the question. His friend sighed. – "You do know that he wouldn't be allowed to work as an agent, right?" – Again, just a shrug. – "How the hell didn't this come out during his mandatory psych evaluation?" – His friend pointedly avoided his eyes and Rossi was getting increasingly suspicious. – "Jason? How did he manage to evade the evaluation?"

"Hey, it's not my fault we're always busy and out of town when he's scheduled!"

"Not your fault. Right."

"By the time he'll manage to appear in front of the shrinks, he'll know what to do and say to pass the test." – Gideon said confidently.

"But you know they're not stupid, don't you? They're professionals, just like you and me." – His friend pointed out.

"Ah, well. We just have to be better then. And I told you already: he's never been diagnosed. Maybe he's not even autistic at all." – He ignored his oldest friend's snort and continued. – "It's just that you can't expect a genius to be 'normal', can you? Or haven't you heard about Einstein, Newton, Darwin or even Mozart? They all did wonderful things and Spencer is right there with them. His brain is unique, his thoughts all over the place… It distracts him from dull everyday activities. He just needs someone to herd him, help him learn basic social interactions so that he can navigate in the world."

"And it will be you teaching him if I understand correctly?"

"What's wrong with that?" – Gideon asked defensively.

"Nothing. If you ever need help, just say so. I have all the time of the world right now."

"Thanks, Dave." – Then, after a moment of contemplation, he continued. – "Sometimes it's not easy, you know? I was indeed thinking about retiring before he joined, now I obviously can't for a while. A long while. I wouldn't do that to him when it was me tearing him out of his comfort zone and bringing him into a whole new environment."

"And the others on the team? What do they think?" – Gideon had told him about how he had found the kid at Caltech and how he'd finally convinced him to join the FBI but he hadn't mentioned the reactions of the team members yet.

Gideon smiled.

"They were quite stunned at first."

"I don't blame them. A 20-year-old genius kid with autistic tendencies on an elite FBI team… You have to admit, it's highly unusual."

"More like unheard of." – The senior profiler nodded. – "But everyone's been great; they've all adopted him. Morgan treats him like an annoying little brother who exasperates you but you're actually proud of him anyway."

"Oh, yeah. So I heard." – Chuckled Rossi, referring to the rant he'd listened to from the genius. – "Although I'm not sure it's a good thing to call someone 'weird' and 'geeky'."

"Normally, I'd agree but Spencer doesn't seem to mind. He hero worships Morgan enough to happily take anything from him."

"Just tell me Morgan doesn't use this to take advantage of the kid."

"No, believe me: I'm paying attention. But he's never tried anything but to support and help him. Those little shoves into the right direction and some jokes to lighten the mood are beneficial."

"Good, because I'm afraid I'm becoming quite protective here. And Aaron? Somehow I can't imagine him having patience for a kid."

"Oh, he's the biggest surprise of all: he just loves Spencer." – Smiled Gideon. – "In the beginning, he insisted I take care of everything and he wouldn't even have to notice we have a kid with us. That was his condition for agreeing in the first place. But then soon after Spencer joined, he became so attached, he's even worse now when it comes to defending the boy than I am!"

"That's hard to imagine."

"And yet it's true." – Gideon then proceeded to tell his friend about an occasion when one member of the local police had made the grave mistake of calling their youngest member a 'retard' and had ended up thrown against the nearest wall with a very angry and dangerous-looking Aaron Hotchner an inch from his face, breathing heavily and threatening to break his neck. – "He resigned the next day and disappeared. I'd never seen Aaron so angry before."

Rossi whistled admiringly.

"Why would someone be so dumb as to call the Kid that?"

Gideon fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Because the man couldn't accept that Reid wasn't interested in him. _That_ way."

"Oh… _OH_!" – Gasped Rossi as he finally understood. – "The hell! The Kid was only 20!"

The senior profiler smiled.

"Don't worry, he actually never even realized what was going on. The man tried to get his attention in any way possible and everyone knew what he wanted but Spencer remained absolutely clueless. He never knew where all those cookies and cups of coffee came from, or why he was invited to a movie theater, restaurant or carnival every second. He just said no and continued with his work, too engrossed in the notes of the UnSub's killing method to care. The man got angry, called him names, including 'retard', and Aaron jumped to his rescue."

"Who'd have thought… When I knew him, Aaron only cared about his career and nothing else. He was the most ambitious young agent I've ever worked with."

"Things change."

"Indeed. Aaron's over thirty and not the director of FBI yet, even though I'd have bet he would be. And you have a whole team now. And a kid. And you look very tired. Would you like to turn in? We can continue tomorrow."

"Sure. But are you sure you don't mind us staying? I could probably carry him out to the car…"

Rossi waved his hand dismissingly.

"Nonsense! Of course I don't mind! I'm glad to have you here. Besides, he'll want to continue in the library tomorrow." – He said with a chuckle. – "There are a few more books."

"Oh, Dave, if you let him, he'll move in there permanently."

"He's welcome to do that."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

It was nearly noon when Spencer finally emerged from the guest bedroom, still in the clothes he'd been wearing the day before, with his hair quite disheveled and looking for all the world like he was sleepwalking.

"I've made tomato soup and lasagna. Go, wash up so that we can eat." – Rossi said gently, trying to wake the half-asleep boy.

"Hmmmm."

The ex-profiler grabbed the young agent's arm just in time to prevent him from walking headfirst into the closed bathroom door.

"Open it first, Kid."

"Hmmmm."

Gideon observed the scene with amusement.

"His IQ drops off when he's tired." – He explained.

His friend gave him an indignant glare while he pushed the oblivious boy into the bathroom with the instruction that he had five minutes to make himself presentable for dinner.

After four and a half minutes, Reid emerged looking only slightly better but he at least managed at the second try to sit onto the chair instead of next to it on the floor. As soon as he was firmly seated, he dropped his head onto his folded arms and groaned.

"I'm tired…"

"If you don't promise me not to read that much and fast anymore, you're banned from the library, Kiddo." – Gideon warned, pushing a full plate toward the boy. – "You're making yourself sick."

_That_ threat finally woke the boy.

"But, Gideon! That's _David Rossi's_ library! It's filled with treasures and I'll probably never get the opportunity to go in there again! I can't miss anything!"

"Kid, I told you already: you're always welcome here. You don't have to kill yourself trying to read two thousand books this week."

"Two thousand and seventy-five."

"Heh?"

"There are two thousand and seventy-five books in your library."

Rossi gave his friend a look that said 'help me out here!', and Gideon took pity on him after a few seconds, so he spoke again.

"Okay, listen: from these two thousand and whatever hundred books-"

"Two thousand and seventy-five."

"- you get to read twenty more while we're here."

"WHAT?!"

"Twenty, son. No more than that."

The boy looked as if he had been told that Christmas would fall out this year.

"But, Gideon! That's _unfair_!"

The senior profiler wasn't about to give up, no matter how the boy pleaded or argued.

"Spencer, you remember our agreement, don't you? You only get to speed-read for a longer period of time when it's really important for some reason and after that, you have to rest a day or two. Otherwise, you'll pass out."

"Okay. I can keep to that."

"AND getting access to Dave's house isn't considered enough reason."

The youngest profiler crossed his arms defiantly.

"You're cruel."

Rossi shook his head.

"Don't you want to take a walk with us outside? We could do so many things."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Okay then. But I do get to read twenty books, right?"

"Yes." – Gideon confirmed, rolling his eyes.

"Good." – Spencer smiled, seemingly satisfied with the notion of spending time with his hero as well. – "Then I'll begin with the ones you wrote, Agent Rossi. The last time I read them, I was about four years old, so I'm not sure I remember everything correctly."

The ex-profiler choked on his food at that.

"Gee, Kid. Don't worry about making me feel old."

Spencer looked at him funnily, obviously missing the sarcasm.

"But I'm not worried." – He frowned. – "Should I be?" – Rossi just shook his head while Gideon suppressed a chuckle. Spencer shrugged, deciding he wouldn't understand these men anyway and took a bite instead. – "This lasagna is amazing."

"Thank you, Kid. So, how about after dinner we drink some coffee, relax a bit and then I show you the grounds? Sounds good?"

"Sounds amazing! I'll just quickly go grab a book!" – With that, he jumped up and prepared to leave when Gideon called after him.

"You haven't finished your food yet."

"Oh, yes." – Spencer quickly ran back to the table and faster than Rossi had ever seen anyone eat, stuffed the remaining lasagna into his mouth. – "Thank you! See you soon!"

And he was gone.

"How was it again with you having your hands full? I can't seem to remember…"

"Dave: shut up."


	3. Chapter 3

Looking back, Gideon himself couldn't say how it had happened, but him and Spencer had ended up spending the whole week at Rossi's and eventually, to nobody's surprise, the boy had begged and begged until he'd been allowed to read twenty-five books instead of the originally agreed twenty. This didn't mean they hadn't done anything else though: they had put the garden grill to good use, had walked a lot in the nearby woods, had watched TV, and talked about anything and everything they could think of. All three of them had gotten very close and they all agreed this had been one of the best times ever.

Now that it was time to say goodbye and go back to their everyday lives, Spencer was visibly sad. He didn't get attached easily but when it happened, it was usually for life. (In that, Morgan would always tease him, he was just like a dog.)

"Thanks for everything, Dave!" – He even hugged the older man who seemed to be very touched, since he knew by now how unusual it was for the boy to initiate any kind of physical contact.

"You still got the key I gave you, right?"

"Sure." – The young man confirmed, patting his messenger bag.

"So, you know you can drop by any time. Any time at all. Even if I'm not here or if you didn't call ahead. Just come and feel at home."

"I will!"

"Come on, Kiddo. The team is expecting as in a few hours and we still have to swing by our apartments. It was good seeing you, old friend."

They went to Gideon's apartment first. The older man quickly changed into his work clothes and checked that everything was all right. Then, it was time to drive to Spencer's. He had to search for about a minute for the keys, coming up with Rossi's first, but then finally, they were inside – and promptly stepped on a piece of paper that had been, apparently, thrown in through the mail slot.

"It's funny." – The boy said, picking up the folded note and holding it in his hand as if he were afraid it could bite him. – "I never get anything."

Gideon looked over the young man's shoulder to make sure the note didn't contain anything dangerous. With all the previous white powder attacks, you could never be cautious enough. But since the paper wasn't even in an envelope, he thought it must be safe.

"It might be just junk mail. Why don't you open it and find out what it says?" – He suggested eventually.

Reid opened the paper tentatively and read it in his habitual speed. Then again somewhat slower. After that, another two times in the pace of an old snail with Lumbago.

"Ahm…" – He cleared his throat and tried again. – "It's from my father." – He looked up at his mentor with wide, confused eyes. – "He says he wants to meet me."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"I don't understand! I haven't seen or heard from him since he walked out of our lives when I was ten!" – The boy lamented, clutching the by now totally rumpled paper and glaring daggers at it as if it were responsible for all the pain he'd had to go through as an abandoned child. – "What does he want _now_!?"

The whole team had gathered in the conference room and all the members were now trying to calm their youngest. Thus far, without success though.

"Come on, Spence, maybe he just regrets what he did and wants to make amends…" – JJ, who was sitting right next to the young man and rested a gentle hand on his trembling arm, tried to make the boy feel better by saying that, although she didn't seem to believe it herself.

"Kid, you don't have to talk to him if you don't want to." – Assured him Morgan, feeling disgust with the man who called himself the boy's father.

"Well, I don't!"

"It's all right."

After a beat…

"But what if he really just wants to get to know me…?"

It was evident Reid couldn't decide what to do, and even his friends' unconditional support didn't help him make up his mind. Elle and Garcia assured the boy they'd all stand by him whatever he wanted to do, while Morgan murmured he'd kill the man if he hurt 'his little brother' again. JJ just continued holding her best friend's hand, unsure of what to say to make things easier.

Hotch and Gideon stood somewhat farther away, observing the scene but not intervening. At least, not yet.

"What do you think?" – The unit chief asked quietly so that no one but the senior profiler could hear him. – "The absent father suddenly appears and wants to meet… Isn't this a bit suspicious?"

"It could be just as simple as him missing his boy." – Gideon said. – "I called Stephen after months of not speaking, too. On the other hand…"

"_You_ didn't leave Stephen when he was a child alone with a sick mother. And _you_ didn't avoid any contact with him; he was already over 18 when his mother and you separated and _he_ didn't talk to _you_ for a while because he blamed you for the divorce. Not the other way around. And you've still been sending him money all this time, even though I believe if an adult doesn't want the parent's company, they shouldn't want their money either. But it's your business. Anyway, the point is: the two situations are completely different and can't be compared."

"Right. I'm not sure Reid Sr's intentions are pure."

"I'm not sure either. What are you going to do?"

They watched as Spencer unfolded then folded the paper again, hands visibly shaking, eyes darting around as if to check to make sure that his father wasn't hiding in the shadows somewhere inside the building.

Gideon shook his head sadly.

"I don't know. I can't make this decision for him, so I guess I'll just support whatever he chooses to do and hope he won't be hurt even more than he already has been."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"We've got a case!" – Hotch called to the team, rousing them from their misery.

"But... I still haven't... I mean... I don't know…"

"Come on, Kiddo, your father has gone years without contact; a few more days won't hurt him. You don't have to make your decision right away."

"Okay…"

But then, as it turned out exactly four days later, his father _had_ expected Spencer to contact him right away, at least if his three more notes were anything to go by.

"This is ridiculous! Three messages in four days just because I didn't respond right away!" – Spencer threw the papers into the bin while he complained to himself. Deciding he wanted to share his frustration with someone, he quickly dialed his mentor's number and began as soon as the man picked up his phone.

\- This is enough! I'll tell him to go to hell and-

_\- Kiddo, what happened?_

\- My father happened! He left me notes again, Gideon! Three of them!

_\- What!? And what did they say?_

\- I don't know. I threw them away.

_\- What!? Get them out of the trash and read them! We want to know what he is after!_

\- I don't want to know…

_\- Okay, then I want to know!_ _Come on, Spencer! Move and read the notes aloud!_

\- But-

_\- Spencer! Just do it, would you!?_

The genius rolled his eyes but did as he'd been told, put the phone on speaker and fished the notes out from between a smelling, five-days-old sandwich and some leaflets about a Hawaiian hotel with an outdoor swimming pool and girls clad only in tiny bikinis. He cut his finger on something sharp and let out a small shriek, which in turn caused Gideon to ask in concern what was going on.

\- Nothing… Ouch… Damn it… Anyway. The notes. The first one says 'Spencer, I'd hoped for a quicker response. Please, call me.' Yeah, a quicker response, wouldn't you want that, dear ole' dad!? You waited years but I should call you right away, shouldn't I? The second one says: 'That's not funny anymore, Spencer, I really want to talk to you.' How sweet. I'm going to tell him to stuff his notes-

_\- And the third one?_

\- Right. It only says 'Call me right away!' Nice. Short and concise.

_\- Meet me in the bullpen in half an hour._

\- What? But why?

_\- Just do it, Spencer. And bring all the notes._

\- Okay…

The youngest profiler didn't have an idea why his mentor made such a big deal out of his father's notes. Shouldn't the man calm Spencer instead of being more angered than him!?

It made no sense to him but still, Spencer grabbed his things and made his way back to Quantico.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Back in the BAU, Gideon waited for him with Hotch.

"Hey… Ahm… I'm here but I don't really know-"

"Reid, are you sure these notes are really from your father?" – The unit chief asked without preamble.

"Heh? Of course I'm sure!"

"But he didn't sign any of them, did he?" – Gideon pressed.

"No." – Seeing the two older men exchange meaningful glances, he quickly added: - "But it's his handwriting. I know it."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Hotch. I am. I might not have seen him in ages, but he's my father. I forged his writing at least a thousand times before he left us. Sometimes even after… khm… never mind."

"Okay then. What do you think he wants?"

Gideon looked at his protégé expectantly after asking this, but the boy had to disappoint.

"I have no idea." – Then he sighed. – "Can't we just forget this whole thing?"

Hotch shook his head.

"We could, but, apparently, _he_ won't."

"Great. Then I'll call and ask."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"No. But I don't have a better one." – With that, Spencer grabbed his phone and dialed the number that had been carefully written on each note.

Hotch mouthed urgently:

"Put it on speaker!"

Reid just shook his head and turned away from the two men at the moment when his father picked up the phone, without saying hi, demanding what it had taken his son this long to call.

\- What the hell do you want from me? – Spencer asked, equally as uninterested in pleasantries.

_\- I want to meet you!_

\- You must be kidding! – The genius felt his two bosses worried curiosity; he knew they wanted to hear what was going on, but for some reason, he felt that, for once, he needed to do this alone.

_\- Son…_

\- Don't call me that! You haven't been my father since you walked out on us so many years ago!

_\- Spencer, please. I need to talk to you._

\- You won't let this go until I agree, will you? – The boy sighed, knowing his father all too well. The man always got what he wanted. Always.

_\- I'm sorry but it's very important._

\- Fine. – Now Hotch and Gideon were trying to get closer, trying to listen in on the conversation. They were also shaking their heads and mouthing 'no' at him, as if sensing what he was just agreeing to.

_\- Meet me at Jack's Burger in half an hour._

\- I'll be there.

With that, Spencer disconnected the call and angrily threw his cell onto the nearest table.

"Reid… What did you talk about?"

"He wants us to meet."

"No." – Came the verdict.

"But Gideon…"

"No."

"I already said yes."

Hotch joined the conversation.

"Then call back and say no. Or just don't go. Whatever."

"He's my father!"

"You just said he wasn't. Not anymore. You have your family right here. Don't do this. There's something wrong, I can feel it…"

"We're just going to meet. He wouldn't leave me alone otherwise."

Gideon pleaded:

"Spencer, I really have a bad feeling about this. Let me at least come with you."

"I can do this alone. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Reid, let's talk about this."

"I can't. We're meeting in half an hour. I have to get going."

With a last shudder at the mere thought of meeting his father, the genius grabbed his things and walked out the door, leaving the two team leaders staring after him.

"What was that?" – The unit chief asked confusedly. He'd never seen their youngest behave like that before.

Gideon sighed.

"He chose the worst time to rebel for independence… It's because of his father, that great moron. He probably threatened to keep harassing Spencer until he'd agree to meet."

"We should do something!"

"But what? It's his father, we don't have the _right_ to do anything, Aaron. I hate it as much as you do but…" – Gideon waved his hand helplessly.

"If he hurts that boy again, I will single-handedly kill him. – The dark-haired agent promised and his friend readily agreed.

Spencer Reid had been hurt enough already.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Spencer entered the bar and immediately saw his father sitting in the back, nursing a beer. The most curious thing was that there was someone else with him. The genius couldn't recognize the second man because he was sitting with his back towards him but the longish, gray hair and the whole posture of the obviously older man was strangely familiar…

"Spencer!" – His father called as soon as he spotted the boy nearing them. – "Come, sit here with us. Finally, we're able to meet."

William said that as if it hadn't been him particularly blackmailing his son into agreeing to this meeting. Spencer bit back a snort and precariously sat down across from his father.

"I'm here. What did you want to talk about?"

"Spencer, I'm sure you remember Professor Timothy Hughes from Caltech?"

The youngest profiler turned to look at their companion properly for the first time and saw that it was indeed his old Mathematics teacher.

"Oh, Professor. Of course. It's nice to see you." – Spencer had liked the man very much; he had immediately taken the youngest student under his wings and had wanted to make him his legacy. He had always planned for Spencer to teach with him and to continue his work at the University. He had seen the boy as someone who could easily be the next John Nash. Of course, the genius' chance encounter with Jason Gideon had changed things, as Spencer had decided to leave right after finishing his third PhD and join the FBI instead. He knew very well the professor hadn't been happy with that decision… He had even, unsuccessfully, tried to change Spencer's mind. - "Ahm… How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, my boy, thank you very much. Missing you a lot though: there hasn't been a student nearly as talented as you ever since you left. Of course, there hadn't been one before you came to us, either…"

Not having a clue what to answer to that, the young profiler just smiled apologetically. Well, at least he hoped he looked apologetical instead of what he really felt: happy to be an agent instead of a mathematician.

"Son-" – Seeing the boy's eyes flash angrily, William changed his words. – "Spencer. I've asked for you to come because Tim and I have a proposition for you."

"A _proposition_?"

"Yes." – The professor continued. – "We want you to come back to Caltech and continue your work there. With me. I'm going to make the best scientist out of you."

At that, Spencer couldn't help himself and burst out in a hysterical laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

While Spencer laughed the two men stared at him confusedly.

"What's so funny?" – Asked his father after a while.

"Ah." – The genius said as soon as he'd managed to catch his breath. – "It was good. Real good, I appreciate jokes sometimes. But, okay, honestly: why are we here?"

The professor looked at him funnily.

"We really want you to come back to Caltech with me." – He confirmed.

"But… Professor Hughes…" – Spencer incredulously said. – "I'm an FBI agent now. I have a job. And I live here, I have an own apartment and all."

The professor didn't seem able to say anything to that so it was his father who continued for him:

"And I don't think it's an adequate environment for you."

"_Excuse me_?!"

"Come on, Son!" – A glare. – "_Spencer_ then. It's dangerous and absolutely not for someone like you."

"Oh, really? And then, pray tell, what would be for _someone like me_?" – The boy spat. – "What does that mean anyway? Someone like me?"

To say that the genius was angry would be a huge understatement. He should have listened to Hotch and Gideon and never come. Or, at the very least, he should have brought someone with him.

"Spencer, my boy. You're a unique genius. One of a kind. You shouldn't waste your talents on the FBI when you can change the world doing research."

"Professor, I do change the world. Every day. Every time we save someone's life or catch a killer before they could take another victim. Always when we help the families get over a loved one's death by giving them closure. I don't think I could do more good anywhere else." – He explained patiently, hoping his kind teacher would understand. Spencer had always admired the man greatly and thought the world of him.

"That's all very good but not for a genius to do. Let the agents handle this part and do what you do best: teach, learn, research. You could be the one to finally solve the Goldbach Conjecture or the Riemann Hypothesis!" – The old man's eyes practically sparkled just thinking about all the possibilities that having the boy presented. – "What about the Twin Prime Conjecture? You were very interested in it when we worked together. You always said you would prove that there are an infinite number of pairs of twin primes!"

That was true, Spencer had indeed said that. When he'd been a student at Caltech who hadn't seen anything of the world. Who hadn't known about the real danger out there that threatened people every day. He'd been a child back then, painfully naïve. Gideon had shown him how to really make a difference and it wasn't by writing papers or blackboards full of numbers.

"Professor… That was _before_."

His father rolls his eyes in exasperation.

"Before what? Before you decided to play Agent Mulder and chase the bad guys with a weapon in your hand?"

Now it was Spencer's turn to roll his eyes, showing that, to some level, they really were father and son.

"If you insist on putting it that way, then: yes." – He answered cheekily.

"This is ridiculous, son." – A glare from Spencer, a sigh from William. – "Sorry. This is ridiculous, _Doctor Reid_."

"Don't mock me!" – The genius hissed, giving off the impression of an angry cat.

"Well, but it is! Just think about what you could do and what you're doing instead! You're making a fool of yourself and getting yourself into dangerous situations for nothing! Absolutely nothing."

At that, the riled up boy jumped to his feet and grabbed his messenger bag roughly.

"I'm done with this conversation. If that's all then I'm going!"

He had already turned to leave when the professor called:

"Will you come with me just for the weekend?" – Spencer had opened his mouth to say 'no' but before he could utter a sound, the old man held up his hand to signal he wanted to continue and Reid should listen before saying anything. – "Just for two days. I'd like to show you what I'm working on. Maybe you can help me; I'd like to hear your opinion. Even if you won't stay. Please."

Spencer contemplated the offer for a moment. His father was a jerk, no question about that, but he'd always respected Professor Hughes a lot and, to be honest, he had missed working on mathematical problems since joining the FBI and focusing solely on Psychology.

Decision made, he nodded.

"All right. But he doesn't come with us." – He said, pointing at his father.

William narrowed his eyes dangerously but muttered a 'fine' anyway. The professor agreed easily; he only cared about the younger Reid after all.

So, it seemed like for the weekend, he would go back to Caltech.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"He's just going to show me what he's working on, that's all. He promised my father wouldn't be there! Honest."

Spencer didn't know exactly why, but he'd been explaining his decision to the entire team for the last half an hour and nobody seemed to understand him even after all his efforts. It was slowly making him more and more frustrated, especially because – he would never admit it out loud – he himself had doubts about the plan.

"Come on, Kid. That's just crazy." – Morgan voiced what Reid knew was everyone's opinion even though most of them were too polite to just say it bluntly like that, opting for asking questions and leading him to their desired conclusion instead.

"Why? He was my professor. My mentor at Caltech. He helped me a lot and I owe him that much."

"Spence: you don't _owe_ anyone anything." – JJ insisted. – "He was doing his job."

"No, he did much more than that: I was just a kid, nothing like a real college student! It was so much more difficult with me, and you all must know that better than anyone!"

He looked at Gideon for help who just shook his head.

"There's nothing difficult about you, Kiddo."

Hotch agreed:

"Having you around is an honor; it's no trouble. I'm sure it wasn't for that professor either but if it was, then it's his problem, not yours."

Spencer blushed at the covert praise but his determination didn't waver.

"I'll just go, look at what he's working on, offer my ideas if I'll have any and then I'll come back. That's all and then this whole thing will be over with."

"And if they're planning something?" – Elle asked. – "Please, just think about it: did that professor of yours even know your dad when you were at Caltech?"

"I don't think so. My father was out of the picture." – Spencer admitted reluctantly.

"Did your father even know or care you went to Caltech?" – Spencer looked away and Elle nodded as if he had just proved her point. – "So, what's that sudden friendship and their interest in you? I hate to say it, but you're a genius, meaning you're worth a lot to some people who want to use you. And that professor surely sounds like he wants a 'legacy' before he retires. He even said that so, didn't he? And your father? Maybe he's got something to gain with that as well."

Reid blushed in shame and anger.

"It might be difficult to grasp, but maybe _some_ people can be interested in ME instead of what I can do, Elle." – He spat.

The dark-haired agent gasped horrified.

"I… didn't meant to imply-"

"It doesn't matter." – Spencer suddenly stood, knocking back his chair, making it tumble over with a loud crash. – "I've made my decision and I'm old enough to do what I want."

With that, he left the conference room in a hurry, never looking back at either of his stunned teammates.

"Well…" – Garcia, who had been silent until now, said with teary eyes. – "That went well…"

Gideon looked around, shooting a dark glare at the team and especially Elle.

"Maybe if you had handled this with a bit more tact, he would still listen to us. Now, it's no use anymore."

Elle hung her head.

"I didn't mean to hurt him." – She whispered.

"I know you didn't." – Hotch assured her. – "Let's just hope this weekend will pass without problems and then we'll really be over this."

Morgan snorted.

"And if not?"

"Then we'll have to cross the bridge when we get there…"

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Being at Caltech again felt almost surreal, even though it hadn't been so long ago that he'd studied and spent his days studying and researching here. But since then, his life had changed so much that he was particularly a different person, and his memories about this place felt like a movie he was watching but didn't participate in. He didn't feel like he belonged anymore.

The students he saw walking down the corridors in pairs or groups or smoking outside on campus were still mostly much older than him and, as such, some looked at him funnily, as if asking what a kid was doing among them. It didn't help that Spencer looked much younger than his real age and was dressed like somebody's grandfather. The fact that it was Saturday and there were no classes didn't appear to make much of a difference when it came to the dreaded _crowd_.

Of course, he still remembered how to get to Professor Hughes' office while spending the shortest possible time surrounded by people outside. It seemed like he still had his survivor's instincts intact. So, not long after entering through the front gate, Spencer was already standing in front of a plain brown door on the third floor, staring at it and trying not to change his mind at the twelfth hour.

He gathered his courage and knocked. The door was immediately opened.

"Spencer, my boy! It's great that you have come! Come in, come in!"

"Hello, Professor… Ahm… It's good to be here." – Actually, no. It wasn't. It was very awkward and he felt like he had regressed years since he'd entered the grounds. He couldn't wait for the weekend to be over.

"It's good to have you back." – Reid wondered whether he should remind the professor again just in case that it was only for two days but then he decided against it. Especially because the teacher led him to the enormous blackboard Spencer himself used to fill with equations in his days as a student and started to explain: - "So, this is what I've been working on. But I'm stuck. See there…"

After that, the professor gave a long lecture about his theory he wanted to prove and the difficulties he had encountered. Reid was _drinking_ the words and within five minutes, all his previous misgivings and reservations about the situation were forgotten.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

\- I'm worried for the Kid. – Morgan said as soon as JJ picked up the phone.

\- It was Saturday and Spencer had only been gone for a few hours but his teammates were already anxious for him to be back safely.

_\- I know. Me too. I just talked to Elle, she couldn't even sleep. She feels guilty._

\- She shouldn't. It's not her fault.

_\- Tell her that…_

\- I talked to Baby Girl, she couldn't sleep at all either… We're all a mess.

Meanwhile, Gideon and Hotch were together at Hotchner Residency, drinking coffee and worrying just as much as their colleagues…

"I shouldn't have let him go." – The dark-haired younger agent said for probably the third time in five minutes as he was staring into his cup absent-mindedly.

"You couldn't have stopped him." – Gideon countered, having decided to be the voice of reason, however difficult it was. – "He's old enough to travel alone and has a right to do whatever he wants." – If only it were this simple…

"I know." – He did. And it didn't help. – "Do you think this is simply a visit to help with a project? Nothing else behind it at all?"

Gideon sighed.

"I hope it is."

"But you doubt it." – The unit chief guessed.

"Yes. I doubt it."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Spencer felt like a child in a candy store as he worked on the mathematical problem relentlessly; he was fully in his element. Before joining the BAU; before even meeting Gideon, that had been his dream: to do exactly that. And to work with his favorite professor.

"Impressive." – The man marveled. – "Absolutely incredible. You still have it, son."

Spencer smiled at the praise and continued to work. He knew he could solve this. As a matter of fact, he could already just _see_ the entire solution in his mind even though he was only in the middle of writing it down yet. It was as if his brain was working faster than the rest of him; for example, he wasn't able to scribble as quick as he wanted and stumbled at the blackboard to catch up to his thoughts. This had always been like that and he loved the feeling of soaring through the problem. Like speedreading, it was a talent he could lose himself in and forget everything else. And much like Gideon, his beloved professor used to make sure he didn't overdo it and accidently kill himself in the process because after a while, his head started to pound and he sometimes even passed out. He hoped it wouldn't happen now; he _needed_ to finish this.

He ignored the knock on the door and didn't look up when their dinner was delivered. He didn't acknowledge Professor Hughes when he tried to press a fork into his hand along with a paper plate bearing a single slice of pizza. He didn't even drink the water the man had poured for him.

He was working and enjoying every second of it.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"When did the Kid say he would be back?" – Asked Morgan as soon as Garcia let him in.

She blinked a few times, not having expected company that weekend but then just shrugged. She didn't mind Morgan's presence at any time of the week.

"By Monday." – She answered and started the boil the water for coffee, knowing her friend would want to drink something.

"Yeah, yeah, I know! But what does that mean!? Sunday evening or afternoon or Monday morning or-"

"It means he'll be back by Monday for work, Derek." – Garcia sighed. – "I don't know any more than you do."

"I stopped by his apartment earlier. He wasn't there!"

"Of course he wasn't. It's only Saturday, he just arrived at Caltech a couple of hours ago and don't forget the time difference either. You can't expect him to be back already."

"Why not!?" – Seeing her smile slightly, he added: - "Baby Girl, you know what he's like when he's engrossed in some work! I'm worried!"

"We already established that we all are. Still, we can't do anything but wait for him to get back." – Garcia reminded the ex-cop turned agent, handing him his coffee. – "Careful, it's hot."

Morgan took the proffered cup and stared into it, feeling lost.

"I hate this."

"Come on, my Chocolate Thunder, my coffee can't be that bad…"

"I meant Reid being away."

"I know. I hate it too."

"But he'll be back soon, right? I mean, you don't think he'll choose not to come back…?"

"Of course not!" – She gasped, horrified he would even think something like that. – "I bet the boy will be happy to be home with us!"

"Let's hope so."


	5. Chapter 5

"You did it!" – The amazement was evident in the old professor's voice even though he had clearly expected this outcome. – "I've been working on this for ages and couldn't solve it. You did it in a day and a half. Just… incredible." – He didn't sound bitter about the young man's success; quite the contrary: he was happy.

Spencer blushed.

"Thank you, Professor. I love solving problems."

"I can see that… Hmm… Haven't you missed this?"

"Of course I-" – Spencer trailed off, suddenly feeling somewhat suspicious. Up until now, the man had kept to his promise: he hadn't even mentioned the grandiose plan he and his father had presented earlier and William hadn't stepped out of a hidden closet or appeared in the shadows either… and still. This question… He wasn't the youngest profiler for nothing, so he changed what he'd been about to say and answered instead: - "I love my work and I love the BAU. My team is my family, my apartment is _home_."

"Oh… well. I'm glad you're happy, Spencer."

Still on alert, the FBI agent said goodbye to his old teacher and made his way out of the building. He needed to catch an early plane back to DC. Back home. He hadn't even thought about it before but right now, he was anxious to get as far away from Caltech as possible, feeling it was like a giant monster that wanted to eat him for dinner. And even if he knew his fear was not logical, he couldn't help throwing glances back towards the window of the classroom all the way to the front gates, stopping only when he managed to get into a cab and close the door, shutting out the noises and air from outside.

"To the airport, please. Departures side."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

_\- Is he back yet?_ – Morgan asked for the tenth time.

Gideon had to fight the urge to just throw the cell phone against the nearest wall without answering. He'd had this conversation with his agent at least three times that day already. Not to mention that all the others had called him as well. But since he understood their worry, he just sighed and forced himself to say in a semi-calm tone:

\- No, Derek. He's not. Patience.

_\- But it's 6 PM already! Is he even coming?_

\- I'm sure he is. He would have called if something had changed.

_\- Have _you_ tried to call _him_!? Maybe he's too engrossed-_

\- No, I haven't. I trust him. – The truth was, he _had_ called Spencer. Twice. Since it had gone straight to voicemail each time, he was sure the boy was on a plane home. At least, he hoped.

Half an hour later Gideon started walking up and down in his kitchen. He had cooked dinner, knowing Spencer would be hungry when he arrived because he never ate when he worked on something he found interesting. So, he would feed him when he arrived. IF he arrived… He should have been here already-

There was a soft knock on the door and the senior profiler particularly flew to open it. Before tearing at the door with all the force of a thunderstorm though, he stopped himself and took a deep breath. There was no reason to give the young man a heart attack after all. He opened the door nice and slowly. Casually. Looking completely normal, and nothing like an overprotective, freaked out parent.

"Hi, Gideon." – The visitor grinned knowingly.

"Spencer!" – He didn't hug the boy. He waited for the boy to hug him. Or maybe they moved at the same time. Or… ah, whatever.

Finally, their youngest teammate was home; safe and sound. He seemed happy and contented to be back, and ate like there was no tomorrow. They called the others to calm them and made plans to go and visit Dave again the next weekend. They played chess before Gideon ushered the boy into the guest bedroom to catch some sleep before work the next day.

Things were back to normal and nothing bad could happen anymore, right?

Yeah, of course…

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"And then I solved it. Bingo." – Spencer was explaining to Rossi about his trip to Caltech with an enthusiasm of a toddler playing with a new toy, waving his hands wildly and forgetting all about his tomato risotto.

"That's very nice, Kid."

"And guess what!"

The ex-profiler smiled and exchanged an amused glance with a smirking Gideon.

"What?"

"I couldn't wait to get back home because I realized that I belong here." – The young man finished proudly and finally grabbed his fork again.

Since this was the first time they touched this subject, the senior profiler decided to inquire a bit more.

"So, that man didn't mention your father or that you should stay there?" – He knew very well why he was asking this and judging by Rossi's suddenly somber expression, he had already caught on, too.

Spencer shook his head and shrugged.

"Not really." – After some contemplation, he added: - "He did ask if I missed the college."

"Nothing more?"

"No. He said he was glad I'm happy now."

"Good." – But Gideon still wasn't convinced and now Dave seemed a bit on edge as well.

As soon as Reid disappeared in the library again ('I'll be back in an hour' – which meant they probably wouldn't see him for at least half a day) Gideon told Rossi everything that had happened with the boy's father and professor.

If the ex-profiler was suspicious before, now he looked positively vivid.

"I mean, Dave, come on: his father was absent practically his entire life and now he just suddenly appears and cares about his son's work? Accompanied by a professor who conveniently remembers he needs Spencer's help with a mathematical problem _immediately_? They weren't in touch since Spencer left Caltech. Actually, I'd never even heard a word about him before that meeting."

"I agree it's weird."

"Okay, Spencer says he liked his professor and worked with him a lot during his time at the university. According to him, this man all but let him run wild with theories and clapped to all his achievements like a proud grandfather. He said he was really planning on joining the man's research team and probably would have if I hadn't invited him to DC. All right, I give it to him, he must have been disappointed things didn't turn out this way eventually. But still…"

"Okay, it's a point for the professor. But what about the boy's father? What's his excuse for only turning up now after all these years?"

"Nothing. Spencer didn't mention him saying anything to that. But he admitted his father had nothing to do with him going to Caltech or with any of his teachers. He couldn't even say how they met."

"Didn't he ask?"

"I don't think so… Or if he did, he didn't tell us."

Rossi sighed and was lost in his thoughts for a while before asking:

"There's not much they can do, right? I mean the boy is of age. Hell, he's even allowed to drink alcohol now; not that we'd let him, mind you. I shudder just to imagine what a genius mind like that would do in a drunken stupor. He'd probably invent the next generation of nuclear bombs or something… Anyway, he _is_ an adult, so it's not like his father can order him to do anything he doesn't want to…"

"That's our luck."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

As it turned out next Monday, they weren't very lucky after all.

Early in the morning, still in his pajamas, Reid was sipping his coffee when it happened. The doorbell rang.

Not accustomed to visitors at this hour – come to think of it, not accustomed to visitors at any hour – the young profiler cautiously peeked through the peephole, trying to determine if it was even safe to open the door.

The tall, dark haired, dark skinned man who stood outside his apartment appeared to be wearing an expensive suit and looking somewhat bored. The genius grabbed his gun and hid it under his shirt before taking a deep breath and opening the door slowly.

"Yeah…?"

"Doctor Spencer Reid?"

"Yes? Who are you?"

The man didn't seem interested in answering his question though.

"Are you Doctor Spencer Reid?"

"Yes, I am and-"

"Then sign here, please." – With that, the visitor thrust an envelope into the confused profiler's hand along with a pen and a paper that needed his signature.

"What's that supposed to be?" – Spencer insisted, staring at the documents as if they could bite his hand off any minute.

"Just sign, please."

The 'proof of service' form somehow didn't sit well with the genius but – not seeing any other option for the time being – in the end he did sign it. The man nodded his thanks and wordlessly disappeared as soon as this business was done, leaving the boy standing there alone and feeling completely lost.

He shuffled back into the kitchen and took his time opening the envelope, as if hoping it would somehow disappear if he didn't read its contents. Sadly, it stubbornly stayed right where he'd put it, so he finally pulled the documents out.

Then cursed loudly and very uncharacteristically.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"I can't believe this! I can't believe this. I can't be-"

"Yeah, Kid. We get it. We can't either." – Morgan interrupted his friend before a full-blown panic attack could develop. He understood the boy's frustration and fear but right now, it wouldn't help with their situation at all.

The entire team was once again gathered in the conference room, this time sharing the worry and concern of their youngest about his latest predicament.

A court trial.

An _adult guardianship_ court trial.

"But he can't do this! Right, Hotch?" – The boy pleaded. – "He can't, can he? Hotch…?"

The unit chief who was a lawyer and had worked as a prosecutor for a while before joining the FBI sighed sadly.

"I'm afraid he can. It doesn't mean he'll win though!" – He quickly added, seeing the desperate expression of his youngest and smartest agent. It broke his heart that he couldn't just put the boy's fears to rest but the truth was they had a problem. – "It only means we'll have to take this trial seriously." – He said pointedly, willing everyone; especially Morgan; to understand that this wouldn't be solved simply with a fist fight. The protective 'big brother' had already announced his wish to 'take care of the man once and for all'. The last thing they needed now was for him to go to jail for harassing the genius' father.

"I don't want to go to court!"

"Reid, listen-"

"No! I don't want to go to-"

Gideon squeezed his shoulder gently, reminding him he wasn't alone.

"We heard the first time."

"Oh… Okay." – Spencer knew he had a tendency to repeat himself over and over again whenever he was agitated. It was one of the many quirks that made him who he was. Usually, this wasn't a problem. Now though? His father could use exactly these against him to prove he was unable to take care of himself and make his own decisions. He couldn't let that happen!

"Hotch, Gideon: what do we do now?" – JJ asked and Elle immediately joined.

"Yes, we can't just sit back and wait for something to happen. We need to have a good plan."

Garcia nodded.

"I'll look up similar cases we can learn from. I'll talk to lawyers. I'll-"

Gideon held up his hands to halt any further discussion.

"I'll talk to Dave. He has many friends; even lawyers." – He ignored it when Morgan, who always insisted he hated attorneys, made a face. – "I'm sure he can help us. Spencer: everything is going to be all right; I don't want you to worry about this, okay?"

"But-"

"No buts. It's fine. Now, let's talk about the case…"

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"I _knew_ the man would be trouble." – Rossi declared two days later, when, after a successfully wrapped case, Gideon and Reid were visiting him, briefing him on the news of the court case. – "Who does he think he is, appearing out of nowhere and thinking everyone would just do his bidding!" – The ex-profiler was very clearly riled up about the developments. He couldn't help it: he liked that strange genius kid very much and wanted to protect him as much as any member of his team.

Reid, who for once in his life wasn't interested in Rossi's library, sat dejectedly between the two older friends, looking for all the world like a lost, sad puppy and unconsciously awakening all the protective instincts the other men had ever possessed.

"And to think I share DNA with him…" – He lamented miserably.

"He didn't have to do anything with your upbringing though." – Gideon reminded him gently. – "He and you are nothing alike."

"Great. So I'm probably just like my schizophrenic mother. Much better…"

Rossi raised an eyebrow while Gideon counted to ten. Then to twenty.

"Kiddo: you're _you_. You've worked hard to be where you are now and you won't let anyone take that away from you. You hear me?" – He said finally.

"But what if-"

"No."

"But-"

"NO!"

"Okay…"

Rossi had a feeling the two profilers wouldn't stop arguing anytime soon without help, so he decided to steer them back to the matter at hand by saying:

"I have a friend who has a friend with lots of friends with good connections…" – Gideon smirked while Reid only blinked confusedly, probably having lost the thread by the second 'friend'. – "Anyway, I think we have just what we need to win this court case."

"But, Rossi…" – The boy said uncertainly. – "If I'm right just like you all say I am, then why do I need friends of friends with more friends to help me? Shouldn't I just tell everyone I'm fine with making my own decisions and be done with it?"

The ex-profiler looked at the boy in an almost pitying way.

"Kiddo, I'm sorry but it doesn't work that way in court. This case will be tried with the jury so you'll need to convince _them_ you don't need a guardian."

"But I'm not disabled! That's so unfair! Why should I convince 12 total strangers of anything? It's MY life!"

The two older men could see the boy's fragile control break right in front of them. As the youngest profiler furiously wiped at his eyes that so clearly betrayed his emotional distress, Gideon pulled him into a bear hug, ignoring the momentarily struggling. The boy didn't like to be touched, he knew that very well, but he also knew this time was different: this time he needed reassurance more than any time before.

"As I was saying…" – Continued Rossi as if nothing had happened, not wanting to make the young man feel even more uncomfortable for showing something he considered a 'weakness'. – "I've got a phone number to a person we'll need. I'm going to call Doctor Jason Bull right now."


	6. Chapter 6

Doctor Jason Bull's office was buzzing with action when Rossi, Gideon and Reid arrived. Looking around they saw young men and women watching enormous screens, looking through files or simply running from one place to another. The whole place reminded the genius of a chaotic bees' nest and it took all of his self-restraint not to turn around and flee right away.

Instead, he grabbed Gideon's shoulder for aid and closed his eyes so that he at least wouldn't see the commotion. It didn't help with the sounds though.

It seemed like everyone was talking at the same time, trying to outshout each other while the numerous televisions also all had the sound on. How could anyone work in an environment like that!?

"Gideon…" – The boy squeaked weakly.

"I know, Spencer. It's all right."

Feeling a firm arm enveloping him gave Reid the necessary strength to move on into the lion's den, albeit he still wished he didn't need to do this at all. He wanted to go back to work and forget everything about his father and his old professor. He just wanted things to be normal again!

"Doctor Bull? I'm David Rossi and this is one of my oldest friends and ex-colleague, Jason Gideon."

"Nice to meet you gentlemen. And if I'm not mistaken this young man is our new client?"

The genius chanced a look and saw a smiling man in his late forties wearing an expensive-looking suit and holding a golf club in his hand. Something about him made the boy relax slightly as he nodded.

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid." – He said and was immensely glad when Bull didn't reach out to shake his hand like he had done with the two older profilers.

"Do you play golf, Spencer?"

"I… What?"

"Golf. Do you play?" – The psychologist repeated patiently, pointing towards the middle of the enormous place where a mini golf course had been set up.

"Ahm… Not really, no. I'm lousy at sports." – Spencer admitted shrugging, not understanding why this was important right now. Shouldn't they be talking about his case?

Bull motioned for him to follow.

"You don't have to be good at it to enjoy playing." – He explained and demonstrated a nearly perfect move. – "Come on, try it."

"No, really. It's fine."

"All right."

Yet, it didn't take five minutes and Reid was swinging the putter clumsily, trying and failing to hit the ball with it. He smiled sheepishly.

"I told you I was lousy."

"Oh, it's much better than my first attempts were, I can assure you." – Upon seeing the genius' disbelief, he chuckled. – "No, really. The first time I tried it, I hit myself on the head so hard I saw stars."

"Yeah, sure…"

"You don't believe it?"

"Not really…" – Reid admitted.

"So, let me show you." – With that he grabbed the club out of the boy's hand and demonstrated his struggling. – "… and then I tried it harder the next time, thinking that was the problem before: not enough strength. And then WHOOSH!" – He theatrically dropped the putter onto his own head and groaned. – "Somehow like that…"

Spencer laughed heartily.

"Okay, then; maybe I'm not so bad after all."

"So, you believe me now?"

Reid shrugged.

"Sure, why not. This could happen."

Bull smiled mischievously.

"But it didn't."

"Huh?"

"I admit it could happen but it didn't."

"So you lied?" – Spencer felt confused. What was this man's game?

"No, I didn't lie. I was pretty awful the first time I played. But it would be too boring a story to tell that I spent weeks mastering the correct stance and moves and I still didn't put any balls into the hole for a month. See what I mean? I didn't lie I just said the story in a way that caught your attention and was believable."

Gideon and Rossi exchanged approving glances, already knowing what the demonstration had been about: Rossi had warned the psychiatrist in advance that Spencer was honest to a fault and definitely wouldn't be convinced to tell any lies at court.

"Okay…" – Spencer replied ever so slowly.

"We don't lie, Doctor Reid. We ensure our clients get justice. We take facts and use them in a way that's beneficial for you and supports your case. We present them according to our strategy and get the best results possible." – The psychologist explained. – "We help elect the jury and then use shadow jurors to watch reactions as we try different tactics. We tell you what to wear and how to behave. We're there for you during the trial and constantly monitor the happenings from here as well. We will be your best friends and worst enemies for weeks, Spencer."

After this little ominous speech, Doctor Bull invited them into the kitchen and offered tea or coffee. While both Gideon and Rossi opted to drink something, Spencer struggled to find his voice.

"But… Doctor Bull… This is not a criminal case. I'm not accused of murder. I'm not sure this…" – He looked around in a desperate attempt to find the nearest escape. – "… that this is all warranted. It's too much… My case is more simple-"

"There are no simple cases. There are only cases."

"Ahm… okay. But I don't want to play the jurors. I don't think I need to. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself and making my own decisions. Everyone will have to see that!"

The man looked almost pitying as he sighed and shook his head.

"You know what they see right now?" – Bull asked, ignoring Gideon's warning glare altogether. He knew he had to be the one to say it instead of the kid learning the harsh truth when it was too late. – "They see a frightened young boy who's ready to bolt at the slightest movement. They see you fidgeting nervously, they hear you stutter and rush through sentences. They see that you can't bear to be around people in a crowd and that you're overwhelmed by loud noises. You are bothered when you're the subject of attention and hang your head as if embarrassed. You tap your fingers and bite your lip and visibly shake. Kid: you might be able to make your own decisions but you definitely don't look it right now. And if you're this wobbly here then it will be even worse at court. Unless you let us help you."

Reid clearly couldn't even utter a sound; he was just gaping like a fish out of water. Rossi, on the other hand, had plenty to say.

"Doctor Bull, maybe it was a mistake to come here. We're not here so that you can insult the boy, so if you don't want to get to the point-"

"Agent Rossi, I just told you: I'll help." – The psychiatrist didn't seem overly concerned by the two older men's visible anger. He ignored them and spoke directly to Reid instead. – "I didn't intent to hurt your feelings but somebody has to say the truth instead of dancing around it. It's imperative that you understand this: the court doesn't quite work like you think it does."

"Doctor Bull…" – Gideon intervened. – "We're special agents. Profilers, to be precise. That means _psychologists_, similar to your profession. We have some ideas-"

"I know that Agent Gideon but it's different when one of you is involved."

"That's true." – The senior profiler admitted reluctantly, having realized himself before that he couldn't regard this case as objectively as he probably should. – "I just want you to know: our young Spencer holds degrees in Psychology and Sociology." – Clearly, this information was at least to some level new to their host because he seemed mildly surprised at the revelation. – "So, what I'm trying to say is that he has knowledge about the workings of the human mind and knows human behavior. He'll be fine."

"All right then, that's good to know. Let's get to the point: assuming I don't have to explain to any of you how important appearances are, I'd like you, Spencer, to go with my friend and colleague to look at suits."

"Suits!?" – The genius gasped. – "What for?"

He just got a glare in return before a positively frightening man who introduced himself as fashion stylist Chunk Palmer whisked him away to play his twisted version of dress up.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

A mere hour later the whole team had gathered in a room that looked exactly like any court room in the US would complete with a mock judge and jurors to walk Spencer through what was awaiting him in real life as well.

"Gentlemen, this is Benny Colón, the TAC's very own in-house counsel. He's going to be your attorney, Spencer."

The youngest profiler and lawyer regarded each other for a moment like you would a particularly interesting insect. Although he had never had a lawyer before (he'd never needed one), he was pretty sure that usually clients chose their lawyers and not the other way around; and still, now he had the feeling he was put on display. It felt like attending a casting procedure, just with much more at stake. Very uncomfortable, to say the least.

In the end, the small man seemed satisfied as he nodded a greeting and motioned for the boy to follow him to their designated table.

"We're going to sit here. You won't be put to stand if I can help it."

"What? Why!? The whole case is about me."

"Yes, and you want to win it." – Was all the answer before Reid was pushed onto a chair and the mock trial began.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Reid had managed to hold himself relatively well together – until they entered Rossi's house, that is. Then, he burst into tears and had been inconsolable ever since.

"This was a catastrophe!" – He lamented between two sobs. – "I feel like a freak. Maybe I _am_ a freak!"

"You are no such thing, Spencer Reid!"

"But, Gideon! Bull said… He said…" – By that time the genius was hiccupping too much to string coherent sentences together and Rossi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder to keep him from attempting the impossible any longer.

"Bull said lots of things, Kiddo, but it was only for show. A game. Preparation so that you won't be surprised when your father's lawyer does the same." – The ex-profiler didn't necessary approve of the harsh methods and hurtful words they'd had to endure during the mock trial where Bull had played the role of the plaintiff's attorney but he certainly understood what the psychologist wanted to achieve. It was better for Spencer to face the cruel reality and lose his composure now rather than later in the real courtroom.

"But… But… I don't… I'm not… He said…"

"Kiddo, listen to me." – Gideon moved so that he was directly facing his young charge and could look him into the eyes to show how serious and honest he was. – "You know very well that, sadly, we have a law system where as soon as a case becomes a contested matter, the truth doesn't really interests anyone anymore. It's all about how you present your side of the story to the jury and how well you manage to convince them you're right. Lawyers are masters of manipulation and they're great rhetoricians. They're also ready to use these skills to win their battles, no matter the price or whom they hurt in the process. You have to understand it: this really isn't about you at all. It is about your father wanting to prove he can do whatever the hell he wants to because he's… well, whatever he is. We still don't even know what he's really after but I'm sure he's got something to gain. And it is also about us doing our very best not to let him dictate your life. Consider it another game of chess; you have a strategy and you fight."

The genius averted his eyes as if in shame.

"This sucks." – He said mournfully.

Rossi nodded.

"Yeah. It does. But you won't be alone."

Finally, ever so slowly, Spencer presented them with a small, shy smile.

"I know… Thanks."

"Kiddo, I'm not letting you go. Your father will have to realize whom he's dealing with. The entire BAU will stand behind you, I promise."

"And…" – Rossi continued. – "Aaron called, he's on his way. With the whole team."

"Heh?"

"They're coming here?"

Both profilers looked horrified at the thought of gathering at Rossi's, probably thinking the man would find them too overwhelming and throw them out for good. The ex-profiler didn't seem to share their worry though.

"Yep. So what? I know Aaron and you two… The others can't be too bad, right?"

"Ahm… You haven't met Morgan. Or Garcia." – Spencer blushed. – "I mean, they're not bad but… you'll find them a bit… how to say?" – He turned to Gideon for help.

"Unique?"

"Yeah. That's it. Unique."

The host chuckled.

"I guess we'll see."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

Indeed, Morgan and Garcia didn't manage to behave for more than a few minutes despite their apparent best intentions, so almost immediately after the introductions they fell into their well-practiced teasing banter that the others knew all too well to be bothered by but Rossi's eyes widened at the comments that could for all intents and purposes be considered sexual harassment in any work environment, let alone a federal agency.

"I see now what you meant." – He muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief but also feeling somewhat amused by the younger couple's antics; especially seeing how the familiar situation was finally making the genius relax after his recent ordeal. He had a suspicion those two knew exactly what they were doing when Garcia patted her friend's cheeks and Morgan pinched her hand in return. He could see now: this was not only a team of agents working together. This was a family. And now that something, or rather: _someone_; was threatening them, they'd do everything in their power to eliminate the enemy. – "So, that's how things are now." – He said as soon as Gideon finished his explanation, telling the team about Bull's plan and the mock trial they had just faced.

Hotch apparently found the state of things very serious because he seemed even more grim than what was habitual for him.

"I see." – He said slowly. – "Well, I've heard about Doctor Jason Bull a lot. He has a reputation of winning most of his cases, so I believe Spencer is in the best hands. Thank you for arranging it, Dave."

"Of course."

"Hotch…" – Spencer swallowed nervously. – "Do you think I'm in trouble?"

The unit chief was a bit at a loss of what to say, partly because he thought that yes, their youngest could sadly very well be in trouble but also because he had to admit he didn't know too much about adult guardianship trials since, as a prosecutor, he'd tried completely different cases that couldn't be compared to this. He contemplated for a moment what to say before settling on being honest.

He began with a sad little sigh.

"I wouldn't say 'trouble' but it's going to be unpleasant. Especially since it's your father we're talking about-"

"He's NOT my father." – The boy crossed his arms defiantly. – "He's just someone who I happen to share some DNA with. Unfortunately."

"- and I'm sure this makes it more emotionally hurtful for you." – Hotch finished, pointedly ignoring the interruption. Sharing a DNA with the man was exactly the danger-factor here, so it couldn't be dismissed so easily as the boy was trying to. Unfortunately, he would learn this the hard way…

Spencer just glared at the table as if it were solely responsible for his miserable situation but refused to say anything to that. Of course he was upset about his father's antics! He was even more angry about his beloved old professor's supposed involvement, since even the young genius wasn't as naive as to believe that his sudden appearance along with his father and the pretense of needing his help with a Math problem was just a coincidence. He had been played and disgustingly easily at that! He felt stupid, betrayed and very, very pissed. Mostly pissed.

But he would show them! Nobody would mess with Spencer and his new family!


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN.: Hi Everyone!**_

_**I need to confess that I have no idea how a trial works in reality, so I'm just going by what I've learnt from books I've read and my TV experiences. Also, I did lots of research for this story but the internet can only help me this far. :) Anyway, obviously, the story's whole point isn't to teach law students but to show Reid's feelings about his father and the whole situation, to help us understand him and his past more, and to elaborate their team dynamics. I hope you'll enjoy it, even if the entire trial is only made up to serve this purpose. :)**_

The morning of the first day of the guardian trial found the team gathered at Rossi's, trying to coax their youngest into moving from the room he'd locked himself into.

"Come on, Kid! We've got to go soon." – Morgan tried to reason with the distraught young man, shouting and pounding at the door, but he got no response. – "We mustn't be late!" – He added without much hope.

He then just sighed and stepped aside to let Gideon try. The man didn't knock and didn't plead. He simply produced a key ('Dave has spares' – he explained) and entered, closing the door after himself so that the others couldn't see or hear what was going on inside.

Whatever he said or did seemed to work though, because after about ten minutes both senior and youngest profiler appeared, the latter looking slightly haggard but determinedly ready to face the day.

"We'll be there for you the whole time, Spence."

"Thanks, JJ…"

"It's going to be all right, Kid."

"I think I'm gonna puke." – Was all the genius replied to that.

"No, you won't." – Rossi assured him, hoping he wouldn't be proven to be a liar. The kid did seem a bit green…

"If you do…" – Elle said, smiling slightly. – "… make sure to avoid the judge's robe."

Spencer shot her a dark glare that had the desired effect: she shrugged and walked ahead toward one of the waiting cars.

The genius refused to speak during the whole ride and didn't even open his mouth as they entered the court house and met up with Bull and Benjamin Colón in the corridor.

Both men looked exactly like you should in court: with their immaculate suits and perfect haircuts they appeared as professional as they came; clearly, Chunk Palmer had done everything to make them appear convincing and likeable to the jury. Whereas Spencer, in their last minute hustle, had even forgotten where he'd left the shoes he'd been instructed to wear and had haphazardly put on one of his vests instead of a suit jacket. Not to mention his untamed hair and pale complexion that completed the image of a refugee about to be aborted instead of a genius with numerous degrees and doctorates. He could particularly hear the entire TAC team's growl and imagined how frustrated the famous psychologist must feel upon seeing the 'lost case'. He knew the man hated to lose and would consider it a personal insult.

He wondered if Doctor Bull would even charge Rossi extra for having to put up with him…

"Are you ready?" – Bull asked not unkindly but a bit wary, probably trying to judge if they'd have problems with the boy freaking out in there. – "Is everything all right?"

Reid only nodded and stood closer to Gideon, who – almost imperceptibly – put a hand on the small of his back to nudge him forward.

"I guess it's time." – He whispered into Reid's ear. – "You'll be okay. The team will be in there and I'll be just outside the door; none of us is going anywhere."

The genius could feel his eyes filling with tears but he refused to let them fall. The last thing he needed was to make a fool of himself in front of the people loitering the corridor. It was bad enough if he'd do it in front of the jury… Twelve people watching his every move. Each twitch of hand or blink of eye. They'd decide his fate and determine his future. Strangers with power over him like nobody ever before.

It sucked. And yet, there was nothing to do about it now, so he took a deep breath and entered the court room where the trial was about to start.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

His father's lawyer, a fierce woman wearing a gray costume with a yellow dotted blouse that made Spencer's eyes immediately hurt and his head feel dizzy, had been speaking about him for over twenty minutes now and didn't seem to be planning to stop anytime soon; detailing every personal trait that could even remotely be considered 'strange' or 'abnormal', like his habit to not shake hands with people he met or how he liked to sit crossed-legged on an office chair and swirl around while he thought. The genius had honestly no idea how his father even knew about these things, let alone why this would interest anyone outside the team – the people who had to put up with him on a daily basis and yet _they_ didn't seem to mind him as much as apparently _everyone_ should.

According to this woman, Reid was an abomination that shouldn't be allowed to roam the streets freely. The genius was feeling increasingly agitated and angry. Mostly angry.

He tried not too fidget too much (he wasn't eager to prove the woman right about him not being able to concentrate and also, he was afraid of Bull who had promised to throw a pebble at him every time he misbehaved) but somewhere in the middle of the lawyer's monologue he couldn't help himself and turned around to see the others' reactions.

Morgan looked about ready to get up and throttle the woman with his bare hands, making Reid wish he had thought to prepare with some pebbles of his own to warn his friend. Luckily, Hotch seemed to be at least somewhat in control, gripping Derek's shoulder tightly but also glaring murderously at the back of the attorney's head. Reid wondered if she could feel the burning on her neck like he did every time the unit chief presented _him_ with the same stare. If so, she certainly didn't give any indication and didn't let it deter her.

Twenty-five minutes, and she wasn't tiring. Right now she was detailing an incident Reid had already forgotten about how he'd ended up escaping from the kindergarten at the age of three because the teacher had told him he needed to hold Katie Morrison's hand while walking along the corridor. He had walked all the way home completely alone and stated with all the determination of his three years that he wouldn't go back. Ever. That had also turned out to be true because just next week, he'd started homeschooling with his mother so that, at four, he'd been able to enter real school without any rules for handholding.

So, what was the great deal about it!?

Rossi was obviously barely keeping his frustration at bay himself, while the girls: Garcia, JJ and Elle shook their heads and were whispering furiously among themselves, no doubt forming secret plans to make the woman suffer a long, painful death. The team was entirely on his side and that made him feel a bit better about the whole ordeal: if the others were all indignant on his behalf, at least he didn't necessarily have to be.

The only one who seemed fully at ease with the scenario was Doctor Jason Bull who was sitting in the row right behind him and Colón, and who, upon seeing the young profiler turn around, patted his pocket warningly. For fear the man that was notorious for his unique ways and for his blunt disregard of courtroom protocol would make good of his threat and actually start throwing around stones, Spencer whipped back and studied the judge instead.

The judge was a burly, middle aged man who obviously liked to indulge in good food. His round face was pale, probably from spending most of his time inside this very building instead of outside, and his small, dark button-eyes looked kind and wise. He wasn't nearly as frightening as Spencer had originally pictured him to be and definitely not as evil as the judge in his most recent nightmares had been.

He also seemed bored.

Of course, he wasn't the only one: the genius, obviously nearly as adept at assessing people as the famous Doctor Bull, could see that three of the jurors were trying to hide their continuous yawning, while two others didn't even try to be discreet about it anymore. One elderly woman had nearly finished knitting a scarf (she'd started at the beginning of the attorney's speech…) and a young man in his early twenties was snoring softly, having fallen asleep about a quarter of an hour ago. He'd probably partied over the weekend and didn't like Mondays very much, Spencer assumed. The only juror who seemed entirely too interested in the whole story was a woman about his mother's age who was studying him over her round glasses as if trying to see into his very soul. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Thirty-two minutes in (just after an anecdote about Spencer's one and only disastrous attempt at soccer at the age of eight that left his cheeks burning in shame and Colón scribbling furiously into his notepad) the judge had had enough.

"Ms. Blight: is this going somewhere?" – He asked, tone clearly indicating she better arrive right then wherever she was going with it.

"Of course, Your Honor. I'm making a point presenting the facts to the jury about this unfortunate young man's incapa-"

"The jury is asleep, Ms. Blight. So will I be within two minutes if you don't make your point NOW." – As if proving the judge's statement right, one of the jurors chose this very moment to drop her handbag. As she bent down to retrieve it, she hit her head against the chair in front of her and winced loudly, waking the young man who'd been slumbering, causing him to give a frightened snore before blinking around confusedly. The judge sighed. – "Recess! We'll meet here again in half an hour. I need a coffee. Or three." – Without further ado, he walked out, closely followed by the jurors quickly scattering away, leaving a crestfallen attorney still standing in front of the podium, looking as if her favorite puppy had just been kicked.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"Wonderful!" – Bull exclaimed as soon as the group gathered, safely away from the plaintiff's earshot.

Elle gave him a surprised stare that suggested she thought the man had lost his mind.

"Wonderful? How is this wonderful?" – She asked. – "That woman said _horrible_ things! That BITCH!"

Morgan chuckled at the expression but nodded in agreement.

The psychiatrist just waved his hand dismissively.

"It doesn't matter what she said." – He explained, ignoring Garcia's gasp. – "What matters is _how_ she said it."

"How so?" – JJ inquired, furrowing her brow. Clearly, she was as lost as her teammates.

Bull grinned.

"Because the jury hates her." – He said simply.

Rossi shook his head in exasperation.

"The jury is asleep, Doctor Bull, I don't know if they can hate anyone at that point."

But the psychiatrist just continued smiling knowingly and motioned for his colleague, Benny Colón to join the conversation. The small man stepped next to Spencer and patted his back. The boy tried not to flinch at the unexpected touch.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine…" – He didn't sound too convincing. And the others noticed it, of course.

"I'm up next. We'll get back to them."

Reid didn't know what to react to that, so he just nodded. He didn't want to get back to anyone. He wanted to go home and forget this whole day ever happened. He wished the others would forget, too.

Gideon, who had been filled in on the happenings by now, said:

"Spencer, come on, walk with me."

The two, followed by the rest of the group's curious glances, made their way toward the grand stairs and then to the exit to catch some fresh air.

"I'm fine." – The genius repeated without question as soon as they were outside. He squinted slightly at the brightness after having spent so much time in the semi-darkness of the age-old building. No wonder the judge was so pale.

"No, you're not. But you will be."

Spencer had to fight hard to keep back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall. He didn't understand: he had been all right up until now…

"It's just…" – He took a deep breath and tried again. – "I don't care what that dragon says. She's nothing. Nobody." – Gideon, sensing that the boy wasn't done yet, silently waited for him to continue. In the end, he did. – "It's my father…"

"Ah!"

"Not that _he_ matters too much, obviously…"

"But he still is your father."

"Yeah… And he's just sitting there… With that smug expression on his face. It's SICKENING!"

The shout echoed between the poles of the huge building and two women drinking take away lattes and wearing elegant costumes turned towards them with identical reproachful expressions. They were ignored.

"It's understandable that it angers you."

"But why though? I've learnt and accepted a long time ago that he's a jerk. The way he left us… I shouldn't be surprised."

"Well… Now he's taken it to a whole new level, Kiddo. I still don't understand what he wants and that bothers me."

"It only _bothers_ you? Good for you. It makes me _livid_." – Now that he started, he couldn't seem to stop the tirade of lament; luckily, Gideon didn't take offense; he obviously knew Spencer needed to rant. – "I mean, come on: he left us! My mom and me! He never looked back, never asked about us. Didn't even send any money. I had to do everything alone because mom is… you know what she's like! She couldn't even leave the house! We were in trouble and I had to make ends meet and do well at school and take the abuse from my schoolmates and yes, I might be a bit geeky sometimes but I've managed just fine, haven't I and then he just waltzes back into my life now and thinks he can tell me I'm a retard!? Well, I think HE is!"

Finally, when he really needed to breathe, he had to stop, giving his mentor the opportunity to soothe him.

"Of course you've managed just fine. I'm so proud of you. You'll get out of this stronger than ever before and he will have to face all the mistakes he's made."

"You really think so?"

"I KNOW that. So, Kiddo: ready to face round two?"

"If I have to…"

Gideon smiled, draping an arm around the boy's shoulders. Funnily, this didn't bother Spencer at all.

"Come on, then. Don't worry: you're not alone in there."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"During the trial, we're going to prove to all of you that this extraordinary young man isn't disabled and doesn't need anyone helping him make his decisions. No, he is merely the victim of a man's greed for power and control. A man who left said young man as a child alone with a sick mother to fend for themselves and now he wants to show he's still got authority over his son's life just because he wants it. If someone is sick here, then it's definitely not my client."

Reid swiftly turned, glaring at Bull who listened to Benjamin Colón's speech attentively. The genius mouthed _'I thought I told you to leave my mother out of this!'_ at the psychiatrists but the man only shook his head and patted his pocket again with one hand while circling his index finger with the other in the air, giving the general sign that Spencer should turn back around and face the judge if he knew what was good for him. Be a good little defendant and let the 'big boys' handle things for him.

Spencer sighed in defeat. His lawyer was supposed to make sure he didn't lose the say in his own life. It seemed, in order to get there, he needed to lose the ability to make his own decisions during the trial altogether…


	8. Chapter 8

The previous day the judge had been all too happy to postpone listening to the witnesses after the two lawyers had given their speeches. Colón's, while far shorter and less outrageous than the woman's, had still taken about fifteen minutes and had tried the patience of everyone nearly as much. In the end, the man on the podium had cleared his throat, bade them farewell and exited the room swiftly.

Spencer and the team had gone to Rossi's feeling hollow and more tired than ever. The genius then had fallen asleep in his designated room and slept for twelve hours straight.

Now they were in the courtroom again, and despite not feeling ready to face another day of torment just yet, Reid knew he didn't have any other choice. It was happening whether he wanted it or not.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"Mr. Reid, can you please tell us about your son a bit? So that we can all understand what kind of child he used to be and what he's like as a young adult." – The attorney asked smoothly, flashing her too-white teeth and too-wide smile.

To Spencer, she looked like those fake bikini models on the beach who always appeared to be more mythical than human and more frightening than appealing.

His father pointedly avoided eye-contact with him and with the entire team all the time he spoke, addressing only his lawyer. _'So, who has trouble meeting other people's eyes now!? Who might I have this habit from, I wonder.'_ – Spencer thought sarcastically.

"My son… He was already a strange baby." – He began slowly, as if a bit uncertainly.

"Can you elaborate that a bit, please?"

"Yes… Well, he never cried. I mean, really… It was disturbing. We never knew if he was hungry or cold or tired… He just watched us with those huge, attentive eyes as if he was trying to figure us out. I must say, it was creepy; like he was judging us, trying to decide if we were worthy of being his parents."

"Did you talk about that with any doctors back then?"

Mr. Reid shook his head.

"His mother insisted it was fine. I was unsure… She never listened to me. She claimed I should spend more time with him, try to get to know him better, you know? I… I admit it was hard. How do you get to know a baby that doesn't even act like a normal newborn!?"

Colón jumped up.

"Objection, your Honor! The witness is not an expert on babies' behavior and as such, shouldn't make assumptions like that."

"Sustained. Mr. Reid, stay objective and tell your story without drawing conclusions."

Spencer was mortified to see his father actually _blush_ at the reprimand but his lawyer didn't seem bothered. And rightly so, since the damage was already done: he could feel jurors number 2, 7 and 11 watching him intently as if trying to imagine him as an abnormal and potentially dangerous infant; an alien amongst humans. Someone like ET.

It was his time to blush; like father like son.

"So, when did you finally decide to talk to a professional? Because later, you did, didn't you?"

"When he was about two years old. Coming home from work, I found him perched on the couch one evening, holding War and Peace. When I asked what he was doing, he claimed he was _reading_ it! His mother told me he loved literature and didn't find anything odd about it. Come on, he was _two_, for God's sake!"

"So, you talked to a doctor after that?"

"Objection! It's a leading question!"

"I'll rephrase it, your Honor: Did you talk to a doctor after that, Mr. Reid?"

"A psychiatrist. Diana – his mother – didn't know about it back then. I looked up Doctor Moss on the internet. She's an _expert_…" – He emphasized the word and directed it at Colón. As an attorney himself, albeit one who only tried criminal cases, Spencer's father knew exactly what effect his words could have on the jury and how to carefully choose his expressions. – "… I made an appointment, went to her and told her everything I'd experienced with Spencer."

"And what did she say?"

"She confirmed what I'd already suspected: that he was most likely a genius. But she also warned me that most geniuses had difficulties with everyday life and a lot of them were severely autistic. She told me to watch out for signs and pay attention to the behavioral patterns."

"Is that so..." – There was a pause during which Blight gave a meaningful look toward the by now visibly interested jury, letting the words sink in. Spencer fought the desire to punch his father and the attorney in the face. – "Can you share more examples with us, please?"

Mr. Reid nodded.

"Of course. I won't repeat the stories you've already told but they're all true. I also have more. For example, when he was five and attending sixth grade, he came home one day from school with a shiner and dark bruises. He didn't want to tell us what had happened so Diana and I went in to talk with his teacher. She confessed he'd been beaten by his classmates. And that it wasn't the first time either."

Colón jumped up again.

"Objection! Just how is this my client's fault!?"

The judge raised his eyebrow.

"Ms. Blight?"

"We're getting there, your Honor."

"I'll allow it but I suggest you do not make me regret the decision. Overruled! Continue, please."

"Like I was saying, it turned out he was being abused regularly by his much older classmates and had never told anyone. His teacher only found out about it that very day; at least, that's what she claimed; and said she couldn't do anything about it. They were hurting my son because he was _weird_."

"What does 'weird' mean?"

By now, Spencer's cheeks were burning with shame and he had tears in his eyes. But he refused to let them fall. He wouldn't cry in front of so many people watching him, assessing his every reaction. He'd wait until the day would be over and he'd be alone with his _real_ family. He could do it. He had to… He just wished it wasn't so damn difficult to keep his emotions under control!

"Well, my understanding is that he refused to participate in sports at all. He didn't talk with them about anything. He just sat alone, reading his books, keeping to himself. And he knew all the answers to every question ever asked of him while others struggled to keep up. It angered them."

"And that means what exactly?"

"That means he's antisocial. A common trait of an autistic person."

"Objection!" – Benny shouted again, face looking red from anger. – "Mr. Reid still isn't an expert to make such assessments!"

Before the judge could say anything, Spencer's father shouted back:

"I'm repeating what Doctor Moss said! And we had a good reason to be worried: Diana is also a genius, and she's schizophrenic. It is hereditary!"

"Objection again! He hasn't even been talking about schizophrenia but autism before! That's misleading; they're not the same!"

"No, but they're both mental disorders and-"

"Order in the courtroom!" – The judge bellowed. – "Sustained. The jury will please disregard every statement made since the last question. Continue but I'm warning you, Ms. Blight: my patience is wearing thin."

With the last question about what they'd done with the little boy after this incident, to which his father replied that they'd put him up to seventh grade so that maybe he'd be more academically challenged there, the judge ordered twenty minutes recess before cross and stomped out angrily again. As for Spencer, he broke his own promise to himself when he dashed into the restroom and burst into tears there.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"So, Mr. Reid, you've talked about this Doctor Moss who gave you tips what to look out for. According to you, she was the reason you've started worrying more about your son, isn't that right?"

"Yes, because, contrary to me, she is an expert and she said there was a lot to worry about. Of course I believed her; it all made sense."

"All right. So, did this Doctor Moss ever meet Spencer as a child?"

William looked down into his lap, swallowing uncomfortably.

"No, she didn't" – He admitted.

"Has she seen him ever?" – A hesitant shake of head. – "Mr. Reid, you'll need to speak up for the record."

"No, she hasn't."

"I see. Do you think it's normal for any professional to give an _expert opinion_ on a subject they've never examined themselves?"

"Objection! It's not for the witness to give his opinion about what a professional is or isn't supposed to do!" – The lawyer protested.

"Withdrawn. Mr. Reid, for how long were you in contact with Doctor Moss?"

"I talked to her regularly until Spencer was 8."

"And why did you stop consulting her after that?" – William seemed mildly uncomfortable again as he fidgeted in his seat and looked toward his attorney as if asking for help. – "Answer, please. She can't do it for you."

The judge nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Reid, you need to answer the question."

"Because… khm… I didn't continue talking to her… 'cause… well… _herlicensewasrevoked_…"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Her license was revoked." – William said finally.

"By whom and why did that happen?"

"Objection! How should the witness know that-?"

"Your Honor, this is important because Mr. Reid claims he knows his son is autistic because this doctor told him that. We should know why she's not allowed to practice anymore as an expert!"

The judge only thought about it for a moment, before calling:

"Overruled! I'll allow the question. Mr. Reid?"

"I… don't know. I never asked. She just disappeared one day." – For Spencer, and probably the entire BAU team, it was evident William was lying. But he did it good, without remorse or shame, so the genius wasn't sure the judge and/or the jury had caught it.

Benny Colón regarded the man for a few seconds silently, before stepping to the desk and pulling a paper from his bag sitting on it.

"Your Honor, if I may?" – He held up the document and waited for the judge's approval before continuing. – "This is the official statement of the State Board; it just arrived by fax during recess. They claim they withdrew Doctor Moss' license August 1990 after a warning had been issued without avail, because she repeatedly violated the Code of Ethics of The American Psychological Association. According to the Board, she habitually gave out prescriptions for the right price without even making sure the patient needed the meds or if they were for the patient at all. These were strong sedatives; considered narcotics. Sometimes she did it without even meeting said patient. She also gave expert opinions for a set fare for court and as such, regularly purposely misdiagnosed children so that her contractor would win the case. There have been criminal trials in these matters. I'd like to enter this document as evidence Your Honor."

"Objection! I haven't been able to examine that statement!"

"Then, for all means, come here, Ms. Blight and examine it. I'll allow the evidence. Objection overruled. Proceed, Mr. Colón."

Hiding a satisfied grin at the lawyer's horrified expression, Benny Colón continued:

"Mr. Reid. We've been able to listen to some very… detailed… stories about my client as a small child. But not a single one about him as a pre-teen, a teenager or the young adult he is now, even though your attorney claimed we'd be able to get a full picture about him from your statement. So, please, tell me this: why don't you have any stories about your son since the age of 10?"

For the first time since the trial had started, William glanced towards his son, if only for a millisecond.

"Because, when my son was 10 years old, I moved out." – He whispered barely audibly.

"So, you left your family in 1991 if I understand correctly."

"I believe it was actually sometime late February 1992. But yes. I left my family."

No. It was Saturday, March, 16th, about 9:15 AM. Spencer remembered the day vividly; apparently, it hadn't been as important a date for his father though.

"May I inquire why?" – Silence. – "Mr. Reid?"

"Objection, Your Honor. Relevance?"

"Your Honor, of course it has relevance! The plaintiff left his son when he was 10, never to look back, and now he claims to want to take care of him as his guardian! Shouldn't we know the reason he didn't want to take care of him when he was a child and actually needed a parent?"

The judge contemplated William, then Spencer, then William again.

"Mr. Reid, do you believe that your leaving your family has anything to do with why we're here today?"

"No, your honor… I don't believe it has…"

"Sustained then. Move on to the next question, Mr. Colón."

"All right, Mr. Reid. Let's forget about motivations and answer me this: did you keep in touch with your son after you left in 1992?"

"It's not so simple because-"

"A yes or no will do, thank you."

William gritted his teeth so hard Spencer thought he'd surely lose two or three by the time they'd be finished for the day.

"No."

"Did you, in any way, support your family after you moved out?"

"I left them the house. I didn't take anything except for my most personal belongings. I-"

"Yes or no, Mr. Reid?"

"No."

"Did you know when you left that your ex-wife was schizophrenic and not suited to care for a child alone? That she wouldn't be able to work or even go to parents' meetings?"

"I believed-" – Benny cleared his throat, reminding Mr. Reid to give a simple affirmative or negative instead of a detailed explanation. – "Yes. I knew."

"And you left them anyway, with no support and no contact whatsoever. Interesting."

Jurors number 1, 3, 4 and 12 glared daggers at William by that point while number 10 and 11 conversed animatedly among themselves until the judge reminded them to keep quiet and not to discuss the case.

"Objection! Mr. Colón's opinion on the matter is of no relevance in this case."

"Withdrawn. Let's get back to your previous statement. You said your son was abused by his classmates in sixth grade." – In all grades, actually, Spencer thought. Of course, his father wouldn't know about _that_. – "You also said it was because he didn't participate in sports or other activities with his classmates, causing him to be labeled as 'antisocial'. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Reid: wasn't your son 5 years old at that time, while his classmates were about 12?"

"I guess…"

"Do you think it's expected of a five-year-old to be able to socialize with children over twice his age? Or of a twelve-year-old to know how to behave around a small child that's smarter than them?"

"Ahm…"

"Did your son have company of his own age?"

William hung his head in shame.

"No."

"Did your son have company at all?"

"No."

"One last question: Mr. Reid, do you believe that being lonely because of the mentioned circumstances; or actually because of any circumstance at all; automatically makes one autistic?"

"Ahm… I… don't really know…"

"Don't you think if that were the official definition of autism then every one of us would be labeled as such?"

"Obj-"

"Withdrawn. No more questions."


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, after a long night spent tossing and turning restlessly either tangled in violent nightmares or counting sheep, unable to fall back asleep, they continued with hearing Professor Timothy Hughes' statement.

Naturally, it was his father's attorney who got to question the man first. By that time, Spencer was so pale and gaunt he gave off the impression of a sickly ghost, making the others more worried than ever about him.

"Professor, how and when did you meet this young man sitting there; Spencer Reid?"

The old university teacher and researcher smiled warmly at Spencer as if they weren't in court and on opposite sites but in his classroom, working on a mathematical problem in perfect understanding. The genius felt nauseated and was thankful he hadn't eaten anything that day yet.

"Oh, it was when he first came to Caltech. Young, innocent thing. Far younger than anyone I'd ever taught. And more brilliant, too."

"How old was he then?"

"Hm… Let's see… I know he graduated high school at twelve but he didn't come to Caltech right away. He studied at MIT first. Incredible, I'm telling you. Extraordinary-"

"How old, Professor Hughes?"

"About 16, I'd say. He already had PhDs in Chemistry and Engineering. At Caltech, he took Mathematics; with me, obviously, but also Psychology and Sociology. These two I never understood, he should have taken Computer Sciences or Physics or maybe even Biology instead. But Psychology and Sociology? Why? How?"

"Why do you say that? What's wrong with these?"

The professor was clearly getting into giving a lecture just like when he was teaching: passionate and determined.

"That was when all the trouble started! He started talking about being interested in Philosophy, Criminology… He read books about these subjects and came less and less to my office to work on mathematical problems. He started spending more time in the library researching and even visited guest lectures in different human sciences when, obviously, he should have been fully into natural sciences with his brains."

"Was there an occurrence that caused this change? What was he like before and what did he become like after?"

"Yes. The day that marked the abrupt change, Jason Gideon gave a guest lecture at our university about behavioral analysis and its uses in Criminology. I don't even know why Spencer attended, all I know is that he cancelled our pre-arranged work for it. I also know he became so excited about the whole topic that he couldn't talk about anything else for two days. That's when it all started." – Now the normally kind older man looked angry and frustrated, as if Spencer had done him personal disservice by choosing the FBI over Mathematics.

"Would that be the same Jason Gideon who is the young man's boss at the FBI right now?"

"The very same, yes."

"Do you suspect he did something to lure the young man away from Caltech?"

Colón reacted immediately.

"Objection, your Honor! A leading question that asks for speculation!"

"Sustained. Careful with accusations like that, Ms. Blight."

"I'm sorry, your Honor. I'll rephrase it: why do you think the young man became at once so interested in Jason Gideon's study instead of yours?"

"Oh, Jason Gideon is like that. Charismatic, convincing… It's clear the boy had romantic notions about the whole FBI-thing. But, honestly: Spencer Reid with the FBI? It's like a bad joke. He's nothing like an agent should be. He is supposed to be a professor! He can teach, research, work at the university; that's what he's cut out to be. He shouldn't be running around with a loaded gun in his hand. It's dangerous."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because he's clumsy. His mind is always miles from where his body is and that usually calls for a disaster or two; he can't concentrate on anything but his own zigzagging thoughts for longer than a few minutes. Let's take an example: if I hadn't paid attention to lunchtime every day he'd have probably starved while working on a problem because he surely didn't remember to take a break and eat something on his own."

"Were there other indications he couldn't take care of himself?"

"Oh, yes." – The professor nodded, unashamedly staring at Spencer. – "He was always a brilliant student. He actually didn't even have to study to do exceptional; and that was his only luck. Because the boy never did remember his exam schedule; well, I don't even think he _knew_ about the exams in advance. I certainly never saw him prepare for either them or be worried about how he would do. I usually got hold of his schedule from his teachers; since everyone knew him of course; and then sent him at the right time to the right place. He just shrugged and went. He literally had no idea what was going on around him."

Spencer was fuming. Was his favorite professor really saying these things about him!? These were all lies! He had always known very well what needed to be done to graduate; hell, he'd already had two PhDs by the time he'd met the professor and during his time at Caltech he'd finished one more along with two BAs! Since then, the FBI Academy and another BA. Did the man really think these things always all just HAPPENED accidentally to him? No one could be that lucky and certainly not him!

Just because he never complained like some other students about how much they'd had to study during the night or how frightened they were of a professor or two… It didn't mean he had no clue! And it surely didn't mean he never worked for his achievements! Hadn't he spent every free minute at the college back then either sitting in lectures or doing research in the library? Hadn't he worked with Professor Hughes on the mathematical problems untiringly after hours, even on weekends?

Why was the man saying untrue things in court!?

He felt Benny Colón touch his arm gently in a placating manner and realized he'd been clutching a pen so tightly it nearly broke in two. He relaxed his grip and took a deep breath.

"And how was it when he said he wanted to leave college?"

"It was out of the blue!" – The professor explained agitatedly. – "I was shocked. I was also sure he didn't really know what he was jumping into and I tried telling him this fairy tale dream of his about the FBI would come to a bitter end as soon as he'd see reality… But he wouldn't listen. He insisted Jason Gideon had promised he'd help him and that the man would keep that promise no matter what. From then on, my opinion didn't seem to make any difference."

"And then he left?"

"Yes. There one day, gone the next."

"Did he keep in touch? Have you been talking? When was the next time you saw him?"

"No, he didn't keep in touch. We didn't talk after he left the west coast and joined the FBI in Quantico. Well, we didn't talk until I visited him not so long ago. We met in a restaurant. He didn't know I'd be there; he was expecting to only meet his father."

"And what was your conversation about, Professor?"

"I invited him back to Caltech to work with me for a few days. He agreed. He came and enjoyed it immensely. Sadly, he left again to go back 'home'."

"So, he went back to Caltech with you after your meeting?"

"No, I went back alone and he joined me for a weekend a few days later."

"I see. And did he, in your opinion, have a good time?"

"Yes. He said he'd missed the college."

"Thank you. Your witness, Mr. Colón."

Benny stood and walked up to the witness stand, studying the older gentleman. The professor actually seemed to care for Spencer, however he had some twisted ideas about what was best for the young man.

"Professor, when you, say, 'discovered' Doctor Reid's talent, what was your plan with him?"

"I wanted him to become my assistant. My right-hand man. Eventually my successor as Head of Department."

"Did he want that, too?"

There was no hesitation in the answer at all.

"Of course! He was eager and happy to work with me. I let him roam free in my office; he even had a key. I'd never given anyone such unlimited access before." – He looked at Spencer again, sighing sadly. – "Everything was fine until Jason Gideon appeared."

"But didn't you say Doctor Reid was interested in human sciences before?"

"Yes, he was. That's true. I never understood why. But not to this extent; that became extreme after that lecture."

"By 'extreme' you mean that he eventually chose to pursue this career path instead of an academic one?"

"Yes. A brain like his needs to do research. He needs to discover new things, solve seemingly unsolvable puzzles, teach new generations… He shouldn't have to run around with a badge and a gun and be eventually shot to death before he reaches 30."

"How do you know this will happen? Can you see into the future?"

"Objection!" – The judge raised an eyebrow at the lawyer, waiting for the explanation as to why she just objected. She cleared her throat. – "That's an… ahm… _sarcastic_ question."

Colón rolled his eyes.

"I'll rephrase it: how can you be certain he'll die before he reaches 30?"

"Well, agents don't have a long and happy life, do they? With that lifestyle… I looked them up, those profilers or whatever they're called… They travel around the country, never stay at one place for longer than a few days. They don't even have a real home! That's not how a genius like Spencer can or should live! He's special and he's also very fragile!"

'_Jesus, he really believes what he's saying!'_ – Spencer realized with a sudden certainty. – _'He's the crazy one, not me!'_

"Is that why you searched for Doctor Reid's father and asked him for help to get the young man back to you?"

Spencer held his breath while he waited. They'd talked about this but they agreed they had no idea how his father knew about him at all but this theory made sense. He knew Colón took a chance asking this question and he couldn't wait to hear the answer…

"Objection!"

The judge just held up his hand to silence the lawyer and stared at the Professor expectantly.

"Well?" – He prompted.

"Your Honor, I objected!"

"I heard you, Ms. Blight; as a matter of fact, I think everyone in a three-mile radius did; but I overruled you. Now sit down and let the witness speak."

"Answer the question, Professor Hughes." – Benny instructed.

"Actually, no. _He_ came to _me_. But I didn't need much persuasion."

'_He's lying. Surely, he is… Or isn't he?'_ – Spencer mused.

"And what was the reason for him to seek you out after all these years? Why now?"

"I don't know his motivations; it's not like we're friends or something. I only know he knocked on my door one day, introduced himself as the boy's father and asked me to accompany him to Quantico so that we could talk to Spencer together; help him see our point. When it didn't work and the boy wanted to go home after the weekend spent at Caltech, William came back to me. Said I'd get the boy back permanently for my research team if he became the guardian. Said I'd have to come here as a witness for that to happen. I'm here now. That's all I know."

Colón smiled.

"So, Doctor Reid indeed wanted to go back 'home' as you phrased it earlier. He didn't seem to be afraid of Jason Gideon or any of his colleagues, did he?"

"Objection! It's actually a statement disguised as a question!"

"Sustained. Rephrase it, Mr. Colón."

"Right, your Honor. Professor: did Doctor Reid seem anxious or afraid of any of his current colleagues to you?"

"No." – The Professor admitted easily. – "He still seems to be quite happy with his crazy FBI gig. It appears I was wrong: his dreams weren't shattered right away."

"Wouldn't any 'romantic notions' be over by now?"

"Not necessarily. It just shows he really needs someone to make these decisions for him. Clearly, he's blind to recognize his own interests."

"And what interests would that be?"

"Academic success. Clearly. Do you even understand what you could do, Spencer!?" – He asked, addressing the genius directly. – "You could be the greatest scientist of all times! You could be the next-"

"Do not talk to the defendant, Professor. Mr. Colón, do you have any more questions?"

"Just one, your Honor. Professor: wouldn't Doctor Reid's success be officially regarded as yours? If he, as a member of your research team, solved one of the unsolvable problems, wouldn't it be reflected as _your_ big break-through? Wouldn't _your_ name go down in history along with, or perhaps even instead of his?"

For the first time since the whole process started, Professor Hughes seemed uncomfortable.

"I… well… Yes, I suppose it's so…"

"No more questions, your Honor."


	10. Chapter 10

They took a thirty-minute break after that during which Morgan and JJ eventually managed to persuade Spencer to eat a few bites of a turkey sandwich, and while it admittedly tasted more like sawdust in his mouth than anything else, the genius had to admit it did help some with his pounding head and dizziness.

He felt much better knowing the next witness would be Gideon, since he was sure he wouldn't have to listen to any uncomfortable stories or hear unwelcome revelations this way.

Elle turned to Doctor Bull who was munching on a sandwich of his own.

"What do you think so far?"

The psychiatrist smiled.

"We have most of the jurors on our side already. We'll be fine." – He said confidently. – "Mr. Gideon will help us some more and then, we'll just have an expert to deal with before we're done."

Bull and his team had explained about earpieces and shadow jury and everything they were doing but most of it was lost on Spencer, since he'd been too worried about the whole trial to pay much attention. Even now he didn't really care about the jury. He knew with his logical side that this was the only thing he should be interested in, since they would be making the decision that would affect his whole future, but honestly: seeing his father and beloved professor conspiring against him like that was too painful to leave much place for anything else in his mind or heart.

What had he done to deserve this!?

"You okay, Sweet Cheeks?"

"I'm fine, Garcia." – But the answer wasn't honest; it was monotone and well-rehearsed. Everyone knew he was nearing a complete breakdown; they only hoped he'd wait with it until they were home. The technical analyst patted his back in reassurance and remained silent. There was really not much to say anyway.

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"Mr. Gideon, tell us a bit about how you met Doctor Reid and how he came to work with you." – Colón asked. They had rehearsed this, Spencer knew very well what the senior profiler would say and still: he listened intently as if hearing his own story for the very first time.

"It was about two years ago. I give lectures about the work we do at different colleges; sometimes even high schools; and that time, it was Caltech. At first it appeared to me it would be like any other lecture: I go in, say what I prepared to say and then I'm out. It's in no way a recruitment strategy, before you ask, so no: I'm not paying too much attention to the students. This time though, it turned out to be quite different."

"Different how?"

"Well, there was this young kid." – Gideon smiled, reliving the memory. – "He looked to be entirely too young to even attend a college and he seemed much more interested than the rest of the audience put together. He answered all my questions correctly and asked some of his own… In the end, he ended up solving the case I brought as an example. An ongoing investigation that had reached a dead end and we'd already nearly given up on it."

"How did he solve it?"

"I had a photo projected on the wall and he noticed something in it I hadn't seen; nor had any other investigator. He drew a conclusion – a brilliant one at that. I was impressed and asked him to stay after class."

"You talked?"

"Yes, I asked about him: name, age, courses he took. General things. It was evident he was a genius. I inquired if he'd be interested in visiting Quantico to meet the rest of my team. Initially, it was meant for this one case. He came, and I have to say: this was the first time he left the west coast. He was as excited as a little boy in a candy store. So, we took him sightseeing a bit; then we solved the case. Well, more like _he_ solved the case. After that, he went back to Caltech."

"Did you want him to join the team back then?"

"It would be a lie to say I didn't _want_ him to stay. But, then, he was only barely 19 years old. Of course, I told him that if he ever thought about a career as a special agent, I'd do everything in my power to help him. But I didn't offer him a place at the team back then. It would have been impossible."

"So, did you two keep in touch?"

"At the start, no. But then about three month later a case brought us to California and I, on a sudden impulse, visited him in Pasadena. I hadn't even announced it, I just looked for him on campus and found him in the library. He was genuinely happy to see me and we talked a lot. In the end, again without having planned to do so, I ended up consulting him on the ongoing investigation. He, like always, had genial ideas that really helped."

"And then?"

"Then, I offered for him to join us again as a consultant."

"He agreed?"

"Readily. Since he'd already met all the team before, he knew the people he was about to work with. The team loved 'The Kid' and it all went smoothly. Letting him go afterwards was more difficult. At that time, I did offer him a spot on the team if he ever wished to join."

"What did he say to that?"

"That he needed to finish his current courses but then he'd like to give the Academy a shot. He also expressed concerns about the physical part of the training and I assured him it wouldn't be a problem. That I'd help and also, since he was too young he needed waivers anyway but someone as brilliant as him would get them without problems. Especially since profilers aren't even required to carry a gun."

"Did he get waivers?"

"Yes. Still, he exceeded all expectations and he was a full-fledged member of our team just after celebrating his 20st birthday. He's been an asset ever since."

"Impressive."

"Indeed, he is."

"Could he have said no? Could he have said 'thank you very much but I'd rather be a mathematician?"

"Of course he could have! He still could, actually. Nobody is keeping him against his will; he's free to do whatever he wants to do. As a matter of fact, he still studies and I support that, too. If he chose to entirely leave the FBI, I would still love him like a son. It wouldn't change anything. Not for me, not for the others."

He looked Spencer in the eyes as he said that, willing him to understand this was really true. The genius felt tears gather in his eyes; he'd never been loved this unconditionally by anyone before.

"Agent Gideon, do you feel like he needs extra support compared to others his age? That he can't fend for himself and requires constant supervision?"

"Absolutely not. It's true that he can get lost in his thoughts and yes, it has been known to happen that he forgets himself while working on something and we have to remind him to eat or sleep. Actually, we've all been guilty of that numerous times. Of course, a genius would be a bit eccentric. Does he have difficulties sometimes? Yes, he does. Who doesn't, really? Can he deal with them? Yes, he can, no question there. Does he receive help from us? Of course, that's why we're a team. A family. And he _is_ way younger than the rest of us, so that calls for a bit of extra attention, I won't deny it. We also generally help each other; not just him, but every other member on our team as well. We're all working on battling our demons and fighting our fears. We deal with problems when they arise and cross the bridge when we get there. We're all fine. He is fine."

"Thank you, Agent Gideon. Your witness, Ms. Blight."

The other attorney regarded Gideon like a predator would its intended prey. She took a moment to prepare herself before beginning.

"Agent Gideon, tell me a bit more about the young man's behavior. Does he have strange habits? Quirks?"

Gideon's eyes sparkled; he was clearly planning on winning this case for his young charge.

"Oh, yes. He does." – The triumphant smile was quickly wiped off Blight's face when he continued. – "Just like everyone else I know."

Blight looked as if she had bitten into a particularly sour lemon as she asked:

"Could you tell us some of these?"

"Sure! When he's excited, he speaks very fast; we can't keep up with him. It's not surprising, seeing that he can't keep up with his own mind either. He spins around with his chair when he thinks – like, our technical analyst for example, chews the top of her pencil or pen, while, as an other example, our media liaison taps her feet. Spencer also hates shaking other people's hand. So, what's the big deal about it? I, myself, find it awkward when I have to walk in the same direction as someone I'd already said goodbye to. I think it might be a bit stranger… He also avoids eye contact a lot, true. One of our other teammates usually curses at inanimate objects he rans into. We have a member who only likes even numbers and another one who needs to have his desk in a particular way. Spencer, on the other hand, likes the controlled chaos and enjoys that no one can find anything among his things but him. The point is, Ms. Blight: we're all different and we all have our own personality traits that make us unique. And it's good so. Spencer is as sane as I am or anyone else in this courtroom."

Spencer had, of course, recognized all his friends just from hearing these habits: Garcia always chew on her pens, JJ was most probably tapping her feet even now, Elle hated uneven numbers and asymmetry so much she deliberately hit her other elbow too after a small accident just so that the pain would be balanced. Morgan was known to quarrel with doors and windows that unintentionally caused him pain and Hotch's desk always had to be tidy, carefully regulated. If anyone even touched anything, they'd die the most painful death. He'd known all these but, somehow, hearing them listed like this made him feel better about himself. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't such an alien after all…

"So, you'd say it's not true he has autistic tendencies?"

"Objection! The witness is not an expert on autism."

"Your Honor, the witness is a famous criminal profiler whose job allows him to gain insight into the most various disorders and behavioral patterns. In this sense, the witness actually _is_ an expert in my opinion. And nobody knows Doctor Reid better than him."

Colón shook his head.

"Your Honor, we will have an autism expert as witness here tomorrow, Ms. Blight will be able to ask these questions then… Jason Gideon is here because he's the defendant's boss and mentor. He's not here as a psychologist."

The judge hmm-ed and thought for a while before making his decision.

"It's one thing why you wanted to have him here, Mr. Colón. But fact is: he's here now and he is a psychologist. I'll allow the question."

"Your Honor, the rules of cross-examination state the questions shall be limited to the subjects covered in the direct examination of the witness and-"

"And you did ask about Doctor Reid's need for special help or support, Mr. Colón, thus it was you who started this line of questioning."

"I don't think this rule extends-"

"Overruled. I, for one, want to hear the answer."

Spencer noticed many things even when people thought he wasn't paying attention. Apparently, he was so good at covering his alertness that he'd fooled even Professor Hughes. But he did notice. For example, he felt more than saw Doctor Bull's nervous fidgeting behind him. He could easily determine that Benny Colón was agitated. But far more importantly: he saw how Gideon briefly closed his eyes, before looking at him apologetically. He couldn't lie. He couldn't refuse to answer.

So, in the end, he took a deep breath and said:

"I wouldn't say that. He does have autistic tendencies. But-"

"Thank you. No more questions."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"It's not so bad. Being autistic doesn't necessarily mean you need to be placed under guardianship." – Bull explained, looking haggard and tired; something he usually tried to hide but this time, he sighed loudly and grunted as he fell heavily onto his comfortable leather couch. – "This trial is not about determining whether you have autistic tendencies but to see if you have special needs for everyday things that would require you to have a guardian make decisions for you. It's much more serious than not shaking hands or avoiding eye contact."

"I don't have special needs, I've solved problems alone since I was a child! I most certainly won't be my father's ward!" – Spencer folded his arms, more angry and determined than ever, pointedly ignoring Gideon's every attempt at talking to him and even feeling a strange kind of satisfaction when the man visibly cringed at his next words. – "I'd rather _die_!"

Colón sat next to Bull, shaking his head.

"Maybe we should consider other options, like proving that even if a guardian is needed, William Reid isn't the right person for that. Or maybe try to negotiate a power of attorney or-"

"So, you're saying we won't win this trial!? That I'll need to make compromises and willingly sign off my rights!?" – The genius was becoming hysterical, walking up and down in the small room and wringing his hands in panic. – "I absolutely won't do that! I'll run away. I'll hide. I'll-"

"Spencer! Sit down and listen: I won't let that happen to you."

"Oh, yeah?" – Sarcasm was rolling off the boy in giant waves as he glared daggers at his mentor. – "Just like you didn't say things that could hurt my case? Thank you, Gideon, but maybe you shouldn't try to help me anymore! And no, Mr. Colón: we're not changing strategy, even if this is the last decision I'll ever make."

With that, the youngest profiler stormed out, leaving the others stunned and sad. Hotch put a hand on his colleague's shoulder.

"He didn't mean it that way. He's just scared…"

"I don't know… He's right to be angry."

"No, he's not." – Rossi argued. – "But Aaron's right: this is the fear talking. The boy loves you dearly, Jason, this testimony won't change that."

"I hope you're right, Dave. God, how I hope you are…"

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"Why the hell are you doing this?" – Spencer demanded as soon as he entered his father's hotel room. He had bullied Professor Hughes to reveal it to him, having threatened to expose the man's numerous little financial tricks to the College Board at Caltech regarding his research funding. Oh, yes. It paid to be considered a clueless child and have insight into things nobody would think you understood; at the very least, it gave you leverage when you needed it the most. – "What is your goal?"

"Spencer…" – William was clearly honestly surprised if not outright frightened to see his pissed off son standing in front of him, breathing fire and appearing more dangerous than a riled dragon. – "How did you come up here…?"

"The receptionist told me where you were."

"What about confidentiality!?"

The genius rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I have a fancy badge; it opens doors you wouldn't think. Answer my question!"

"Son, I-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Spencer. I'm sorry, I'm doing this for your own good!"

"Bullshit!"

"Listen, so—I mean: Spencer. I know you don't see it that way right now but you're being manipulated by that man. Jason Gideon. He wants to use your brains for as long as he sees fit and then he'll throw you away and will leave you high and dry. He will abandon you eventually! These people always do that."

"Oh, sure!" – Spencer snorted. – "Luckily _you_ know them and me so well that you can look out for my best interests. Also, it's good to know you care so much about me, _father_." – Out of the genius' mouth, the word sounded more like a curse than anything else. – "For you could have fooled me when you left without a backwards glance. You really think you can talk to me about abandonment to me?"

"I'm sorry. Look, I don't know what to say. I'm honestly very sorry I left you and your mother like that but I can't take that back now. What I can do is look out for you in the future; make sure it doesn't happen to you again. Believe me, this man is bad news. I want to protect you! That's why I'm doing this."

"And you think you have the right!?" – The genius couldn't even find the words for the man's arrogance and outright stupidity. Suddenly, he felt immensely grateful he'd inherited his mother's intelligence. Risk of schizophrenia or no, it was still better than having to live this dumb. – "You don't even know me! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"My decision is final. I'm going to continue this trial, Spencer, and when I get the guardianship, I'll make sure you're rescued from that environment because it's clearly clouding your judgement."

"We'll see about that."

After a promise like that, there was nothing more to say or do, so the genius presented his father with one last condemning glare before leaving the hotel room, making sure to kick the door closed behind him with as much force and noise as possible. Maybe, the hotel staff would kick the man out for bad behavior!


	11. Chapter 11

"Doctor Barry, would you please list us the typical symptoms of autism?" – Asked Blight smugly. She had chosen a bright red costume for today which, in Spencer's opinion, wasn't better than any of her previous attires. Thus, he avoided looking at her more than absolutely necessary.

The expert, Doctor Steve Barry, cleared his throat and – clearly thrilled to have an opportunity to show off his extensive knowledge – began to speak.

"Well, for starters, we have to make clear that everyone understands what exactly the autism spectrum disorder, or ASD, means, since this can refers to a broad range of conditions. You have to know: not two autistic persons are the same. Having said this, there are, of course, typical characteristics that can help us diagnose this disorder. Sometimes, you can recognize the signs as early as 6 months old, like when there's limited or no eye contact at all, or the baby doesn't smile, interact. Facial expressions are nearly non-existent and even at one-year-old, there's no babbling, gestures or response to name. The child learns to speak much later than their peers, but there's also lots of repetition when they do say something. Repetitive movements are also typical, like tapping the foot or moving the fingers over an invisible keyboard. But it's not only these things that make it more difficult for someone with autism to fit in. They also have trouble understanding other people's feelings and prefer solitude to large crowds. Their interests are restricted to one or very few topics in which they usually excel. They can have unusual and intense reactions to sounds, smells, tastes, textures, lights and/or colors."

"Have you studied the reports we've given you about the defendant sitting there? Doctor Spencer Reid?"

"Yes, I have."

"Can you tell us your opinion?"

"Of course. Doctor Spencer Reid is clearly severely autistic. I would even hazard to say he has, what we used to call not so long ago, an Asperger syndrome, that's distinguished from other forms of autism and true for most geniuses. It's characterized by having remarkable focus and persistence, an aptitude for recognizing patterns and an ability to pay great attention to details. All of which, if I understand correctly, are things associated with Doctor Spencer Reid. Also, the hindrances: hypersensitivities, difficulty with everyday conversations, no nonverbal conversation skills or clumsiness."

"I see. I believe Asperger's is a high-functioning form of autism, right?"

"Yes. Patients are usually highly skilled or even, like in this case, geniuses in some, albeit limited areas of science."

"So, what is your opinion about someone with Asperger's needing a guardian for their everyday life and decisions?"

"I have to say, many; if not most; need guardianship at least for the first few years past 18 due to social delays. They mostly need help with finding and holding jobs, managing their money or making big decisions like moving away or buying a car. If they can drive at all, because since it requires paying attention to traffic, it can be quite stressful, even impossible for most of them. They need help with their health problems as well, especially since they usually don't acknowledge there's any problem at all."

"Do you think Doctor Spencer Reid needs a guardian?"

"I object, your Honor! This isn't a question the witness could or should answer! It's a legal question; the whole point of this trial. It's up for the jury to make a decision."

"I'm allowing it. I want to hear Doctor Barry's expert opinion."

"Thank you, your Honor." – It was evident the doctor was incredibly proud of himself, having been acknowledged by none other than the judge as an expert. – "In my opinion, Doctor Reid clearly needs a guardian. He is in a job where he's being used, maybe even abused. He's far away from his parents and his concerned father hasn't even known about his whereabouts until now." – Concerned father!? CONCERNED FATHER!? Spencer looked around and up to see if a flood would come, or maybe an earthquake… would the ceiling collapse from the lies being fed to the court!? Something should happen because this was outrageous! – "This can't go on like that anymore. People like Doctor Reid can easily be manipulated and used and mostly, they don't even realize it until it's too late. They can also be sexually exploited, for example. It's up to their guardians to make sure this doesn't happen."

"And who, do you think, would be best for the role of the guardian?"

"Why, it's easy: his father. The parents are always the first choice in cases like that and while Doctor Reid's mother is sadly unavailable to shoulder this responsibility, the mere fact this trial is even happening is evidence enough that his father would do anything for the son. Yes. It has to be Mr. William Reid."

Spencer just closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, counting to fifty in his head in Latin. He wasn't going to make a scene. He wasn't going to make a scene. He wasn- Scratch it. He was going to throttle that small, bald man in his expensive Armani suit and his round-rimmed glasses that dared suggest his team, his family was sexually abusing him and- He felt more than heard the others moving around behind him, unconsciously edging as close as possible without violating courtroom protocol by simply walking up to the defendant's desk. He knew Morgan, JJ, Elle, Garcia, Hotch and Rossi were all there. Still, the one person he was the happiest to finally have around after his testimony was Gideon, and he hoped his behavior the day before didn't change the man's opinion about him. He needed his mentor to be there now. The man who was his father in the heart rather than someone who donated DNA then left without trace for years.

He turned to see Gideon perched at the edge of his seat, leaning forward and looking directly at him. When he met Spencer's eyes, he winked and gave him a small, encouraging smile. The genius knew they would be all right.

Of course, Doctor Jason Bull shook his head and patted his pocket again, reminding him of the rules he had established at the very beginning of their working together. Sighing, Spencer turned back to see the attorney take her seat with a self-assured grin and Benny Colón walking toward the witness stand to ask his own questions. The game was still on.

"Doctor Barry, you told us a lot about autism and its symptoms. Then you said you reviewed 'reports' about Doctor Reid and established he's an autist as well. My question regarding that would be: did you, before today here in the courtroom, meet Doctor Reid in person?"

"No, I didn't, that's the first time I'm seeing him."

"Have you ever spoken to him?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"What is then your _expert opinion_ based on? What were those documents you've seen?"

"It's based on reports I got from Ms. Blight. They were written by one Professor Hughes and the boy's father, William Reid."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"Did you talk to them?"

"No, I didn't. I only read their reports."

"Did you talk to Doctor Reid's team? His colleagues and friends?"

"No, I didn't."

"Did you visit his apartment, his workplace; did you see where he lives, _how_ he lives?"

"No. I didn't."

"And you believe two reports from one side of the story and from people who haven't known the defendant for years are enough to give an expert opinion on him?"

The doctor gulped loudly.

"I believe… if the reports were true… then yes, I know enough about Doctor Reid to form an opinion."

"_IF_ the reports were true."

"Yes, that's what I said."

"Do you know if they are true?"

Another gulp and a glance at William Reid sitting next to his paling attorney.

"I don't have any means to determine… obviously…"

"Obviously." – Colón smiled. – "All right, another question. You said, I quote: 'severely autistic'. Is that an official medical term?"

"No, I was trying to speak so that the laymen will understand."

"Is that what an expert usually does at court?"

"Objection! Relevance?"

"Sustained. Move on, Mr. Colón."

"All right. So. Is there a medical term to categorize Doctor Reid? I mean, an official one. Don't worry about the laymen for now."

"I… well… To use the correct medical term I'd have to examine Doctor Reid."

"You mean, to talk to him personally?"

"Yes."

"So, not speaking to him is enough to say he's 'severely autistic' but not enough to use correct medical terms if I understand correctly?"

"Objection, your Honor! What's the point of repeating—"

"Withdrawn. Doctor Barry, something else: you said persons who are autistic might require special care 'for the first few years past 18'. How long would 'the first few years' be?"

"It depends on the person."

"So, you wouldn't be able to say, since you don't know Doctor Reid."

"That's correct."

"I see. One last question: is it typical that someone who never needed nor had a guardian, who has an own apartment and a very respected job with people around who love and support him suddenly turns out to be incapable to handle this situation and his own life at 21?"

"Ahm… No, it's not typical at all. It's mostly the other way around: like I said, they might need their parents for longer than just 18 years but eventually, some of them learn to care for themselves, at least to the extend where they don't require a guardian anymore; support is enough."

"Thank you, your Honor. No more questions."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

The judge, having dismissed Doctor Barry, leafed through his papers for a moment before looking up at the two parties sitting in front of him.

"So, if that was all I think I will-"

"No. Your Honor. There's something else." – Reid felt himself blush at the sudden attention his outburst caused around him: the entire team stared so intensely at his back that he could literally feel the weight of it, while Colón shook his head at him and Doctor Bull whispered 'sit down, Spencer' urgently. He didn't care though. It was _his_ trial. They were all talking about _him_. And he'd just about had enough of being a mere spectator to the whole event. – "I would like to make a statement."

The judge gave the genius a long, hard look, contemplating him. At unison, his father's attorney and Benny Colón jumped up.

"Your Honor-"

"I object to that-"

"I don't think that would be a good idea-"

"We didn't call him to-"

"ENOUGH!" – The judge bellowed. – "The defendant has the right to talk on his behalf if he so wishes. Mr. Colón, you look like you're about to pass out. Likewise, Ms. Blight. I've never seen the two of you agree on anything like that. What's the problem though? Both of you are convinced you're right so both of you should be happy to put the object of your speculations on the stand so that we can all see him, hmm? Doctor Reid, come on then."

Spencer concentrated hard not to trip on his way toward the witness stand, trying not to make a fool of himself before he even began his testimony. A lot was riding on this and even though his friends and even attorney seemed to think this was a horrible idea, he thought he needed to do this.

"So, Doctor Reid, are you ready?" – The judge asked and upon receiving a shy affirmatory, he waved for Benny to begin with his questions.

"Khm… Okay… So… Doctor Reid… khm…"

"Do you have questions, Mr. Colón?"

"Ahm… Yes, your Honor. Of course. So… Doctor Reid."

"It's okay." – Spencer assured, feeling pity for the poor man. He hadn't been prepared for this. They hadn't rehearsed it; they hadn't even talked about this possibility, since Bull had stated in a no nonsense way they wouldn't put Reid on the witness stand and they knew Blight hadn't asked for him either. But now, here he was, ready to speak and wishing his attorney would stop stuttering and sweating finally. – "I know it's a bit unexpected for everyone. I, myself, didn't know if I would be able to do this but I believe, since this whole trial is about me, I need to speak my mind." – He turned to the jury, addressing them directly, making sure to look each of them in the eyes for at least a long second. – "You've all heard a lot about me in the past few days but neither of you has heard my side of the story yet. You know more about my bad habits than even I and I think you've all must have formed opinions I cannot control or influence. It's all right so. But nobody, not even my friends and family can imagine what it's been like, sitting there, listening to what is practically my _profile_ and seeing myself through other people's eyes. That's not me. None of it is, or maybe all of them is. I don't know but I'll try to explain." – He turned back to Benny. – "I'm ready for your questions."

During his speech Colón had gathered his thoughts and had caught on the genius' plan. Feeling a bit better about what was to come, he began:

"Doctor Reid, tell us a bit about your childhood, concentrating on the impact your father's leaving had on you."

"Objection! It's not a question, it's a request!"

"Rephrased: Doctor Reid, could you tell us a bit about your childhood, especially about the impact your father's leaving had on you?"

Blight stared like a fish out of water for a while but if she expected help from the judge, she was bitterly disappointed: the man didn't even spare her a glance, he was staring intently at Reid instead, awaiting his answer.

"Well. Emotionally, not a big change." – Spencer admitted. – "And it's not because I'm incapable of feeling anything, I might add. Rather because my father had never been around before that much either. Working a lot, you know; he's an attorney, he works criminal cases. Attended a lot of business dinners. Had friendly gatherings and such; we never had much of a connection. But my mother was better with him around, that's true. When he left, she started slipping. With a schizophrenic person, you can never know what will set them off."

"When was that?"

"I was 10."

"What exactly does 'slipping' mean?"

Spencer fidgeted uncomfortably, suddenly wishing he could ask the team to leave the room. He had never talked about his personal problems with any of them; not even with Gideon whom he normally told everything.

"She got panic attacks whenever she tried to leave the house. Soon, she was fired from her job because she couldn't appear at work. She used to be a college teacher, you know? She taught English Literature. Anyway, not for long, after that she only taught me."

"And then where did you get money from? Did your father send you anything?"

"Oh, no. He didn't. He left everything for us, that's true, but never gave anything after that and we still had a considerable mortgage on the house."

"And your mother lost her job…"

"Yes."

"So, how did you manage after that? Did you sell the house?"

"No. We couldn't; it still officially belongs to my father. Along with the mortgage, of course, but I knew I had to pay it, otherwise _we'd_ have ended up on the streets, since he wasn't there and didn't seem to care about it anymore."

"_You_ payed it? A 10-year-old boy?"

The entire team was gaping and not even trying to hide it. Spencer blushed again and had to shake himself to be able to continue.

"Yes. I was at high school already. I tutored others. I walked the neighbors' dogs and washed their cars… Not that you can pay mortgage from these, mind you, but I had to keep up appearances so that nobody would be surprised to see we were getting by."

Benny closed his eyes as if afraid of the answer but knowing there was no way around it.

"And what did you really do to make money?"

The genius swallowed. This was it. The time for truth. A truth that might change everything for him and whether to better or worse, it would remain to be seen.

He hated that this had to happen this way.


	12. Chapter 12

The courtroom was silent while everyone waited with bated breath for the revelation as to what a ten-year-old could do to make more money than most adults did. Of course, Spencer knew, some of them were imagining horrible scenarios with a delicate little boy selling himself on the streets or dealing with drugs- Maybe even some of his teammates had thoughts along that line, if their expressions were anything to go by.

"Nothing illegal and certainly nothing dangerous." – He clarified quickly and thought that he could see Garcia and JJ heave a sigh of relief, however Gideon still looked somewhat green and Morgan, Hotch and Rossi were also clearly nauseated. – "I'm a genius; I used my brain to come up with a business idea that would pay enough and where my age wouldn't matter."

"And that would be…?"

"Companies. I did everything online and managed the companies anonymously. Soon, I had dozens of workers and lots of profit… It's been going great."

"You say 'has been'… does that mean you still have these companies?"

Spencer nodded shyly.

"Sure, why wouldn't I? They're incredible successful. Although it's a bit different now. One of them has been transformed into a foundation and most of the profit from the other companies goes there to be used for good cause. We offer full-ride scholarships for any college to those who don't excel at sports and don't have the money to study even though they're talented enough to do well."

"Wow."

Wow, indeed. The team looked surprised and impressed. Spencer mentally sighed; his secret was out. He never wanted anyone to know how rich he really was, since it never mattered to him. He especially never wanted his father to know because the man would do anything for money; he knew that very well.

"Yeah… It's like a hobby for me now. I don't really need or want the money I make with these." – He confessed. – "My apartment in D.C. is fine, I can afford it with my FBI salary and I don't need anything else. The only extra expenses I have is what I have to pay for Bennington."

"What's that?"

The genius hung his head sadly.

"Bennington Sanitarium… That's where my mom lives now. She can't take care of herself anymore, she'd even forget to eat if the staff didn't pay attention to that. She'd never take her meds on her own… It's better this way." – He knew he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else but he couldn't help it: he still felt guilty about sending her away against her will, even though he strongly believed he hadn't had any other choice.

"Do you talk?"

"Not really… I write to her a lot though. The staff can decide when or whether to give her the letters. They do it only when she's feeling well and remembers she has a son…"

"That must be hard." – Not knowing what to say to that, Spencer only nodded. He chanced a quick glance at his father to see his reaction but the man's face was blank. He either didn't care or was very well trained at hiding emotions. – "And what about the house?"

"Our house in Las Vegas?" – The genius shrugged. – "Right now it's rented out so that it will be looked after and well-kept. I don't need it, my father can have it back. It's unencumbered now."

Colón gaped.

"You'd just give it away?"

Spencer cringed. Was that something a mentally disabled person would do? Would someone 'normal' fight for the property?

Had he just dug his own grave…?

"I don't have to 'give it away'. It already belongs to my father. It's never been any different." – He explained, hoping to help the situation instead of making it worse.

"But you payed off the mortgage, didn't you?"

"Sure. Consider it our rent, since my father never got anything when he left and we remained there, using to house. We're even. He can have it and that's it. I never want to return to Las Vegas."

"I see… Your witness."

Blight slowly walked toward the genius, as if afraid he could lash out at her at any moment. Clearly, she was out of her element, not nearly as sure of herself as with the other witnesses.

"Ahm… Doctor Reid… Is it true that you used to want to be a mathematician?"

"Yes."

"So, what changed?"

"Time did. Ms. Blight, I was a teenager, I had no idea of life. People change. Before that, when I was two, I wanted to be an astronaut; I can't see NASA suing me to become the first person to set foot on Mars though."

The attorney leafed through her papers, hands shaking slightly.

"Yeah, well… You say you have lots of money now?"

"No. Actually: my companies and foundation have lots of money." – Spencer clarified.

"And you manage these all alone?"

"Yes. Have been since I was 10."

"And you don't know exactly how much you have and don't care and would just give it away?"

"I only said that about the house and it's not 'giving it away' when it was never mine to begin with. I just didn't have any other option but to pay for it, since we were living there and my mom was incapable to do much. It you want to use this example to demonstrate my inability to organize my own life then you're on the wrong track: we were in trouble and I solved it. Successfully."

The lemon in her mouth must be back, Spencer decided, since the attorney seemed to be battling with nausea. He almost felt sorry for her. But only almost.

"Okay, so… Can you tell us about your current job at the FBI? How you got there, what you do, your relationship with your colleagues, etc.?

"Sure. I got there just like Gideon said but I'd been interested in Criminology and Phycology before that. That was the reason I attended his lecture in the first place. Professor Hughes said I was 'obsessed'. That's not true, at least, for me, obsession is something more. But interested, yes. I mean, just because I happen to be good at Math I don't see why I couldn't do something else with my life!? I love solving Math problem every once in a while but I don't want it to be my entire life. At the FBI, I can do so much more! Criminal profiling is an investigative strategy that combines more fields of studies. It's interesting, it's diverse, it's rewarding. We certainly never have a boring day."

"Is it _dangerous_?"

Spencer smiled mischievously.

"I know why you're asking this." – He said, referring to the fact that he knew she wanted to use this to prove he willingly placed himself in danger and thus needed his father as a guardian to stop his self-destructive ways. Did she really think he'd fall for that!? – "While being a special agent isn't the best life insurance policy, I have to point out: profilers aren't exactly SEALs or the S.W.A.T. We aren't even required to carry a gun!"

"Why not?"

"Because we're invited by the local authorities who work the actual case. Our job is to develop a profile that will help them find the UnSub."

"The what?"

"The Unknown Subject. That's what we call the suspect."

"Oh… So you don't actually have to participate in the case?"

"It's been known to happen but it's not every day. No, we don't _have to_."

"Okay… So… The colleagues?"

Spencer smiled fondly.

"They're family." – He said simply. – "I mean, I never had any siblings. Not even real friends, since I was always so much younger than the rest of my classmates. My father left, my mother's sick. No grandparents, uncles or aunts. No cousins. So, basically, I spent my childhood totally alone. But now? I have a mentor who's like a father. I have a brother and sisters. I have uncles… I have everything. It's great."

"Don't you feel manipulated? Under pressure? _Exploited_?"

"Absolutely not. Of course, it happens that we have a disagreement from time to time..." – Yesterday being a great example for that, he thought. – "But then I speak my mind, I can assure you." – Another great example. He'd been a jerk to Gideon without reason and he couldn't wait to apologize for it. – "I can stand up for myself; I'm not a frightened little abused boy anymore."

The attorney narrowed her eyes.

"Why? Who abused you before?"

"My classmates." – Spencer easily admitted. Everyone knew that already anyway, his father had made sure of that. The bastard.

"So, Mr. Reid's testimony is true?"

"In that regard, yes, though I have no idea how he even knows about this because I sure as hell never told him."

"Why not?"

"Like I said already: we were never particularly close."

"Did your father ever hurt you physically?"

"No."

"Your mother?" – There was a moment of hesitation during which Spencer battled unwanted hurtful memories while the team regarded him with horror, never having imagined this to be an issue with the boy. – "Doctor Reid?"

"Yeah… No. I mean: never intentionally."

"What does that mean?"

"It means she only ever hurt me when she didn't recognize me and thought I was a burglar or something. And it wasn't bad, I mean, she's not very strong or anything…"

"And what did she do then?"

"It's not important."

"Your Honor, the defendant has to answer the questions if he decided to testify. He can't choose-"

"That's right, Doctor Reid. I'm sorry but you have to answer the question." – The judge looked genuinely sorry, not that it made Reid feel any better.

He sighed.

"She would sometimes slap me. Push me away from her. Once I fell into a glass table. Small things." – Spencer wished the floor would open and swallow him when he saw the look on this teammates' faces, especially Morgan's who was probably just realizing how he'd gotten the small, white scar running across his upper left arm his friend had teased him about just a couple of weeks ago, saying 'chicks dig scars'. – "That was part of the reason I had her admitted to Bennington when I turned 18. I would never fight back but she was becoming dangerous. And not just to me but to herself as well." – Now, his father looked absolutely mortified. Good.

"Are you her guardian?"

"No. Bennington handles everything."

"Does it cost a lot?"

"It's no problem."

"That wasn't the question."

"I know."

"Doctor Reid, you need to answer-"

"Ms. Blight, move on and stay on topic. This is cross."

"Yes, your Honor, I'm sorry." – She closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. – "Doctor Reid, we've talked a lot about autism and habits… What is your opinion? Are you autistic?"

Reid had expected this question and still, it wasn't any easier to gather his thoughts on the matter as if it had been with a completely out-of-the-blue inquiry.

"Well, I do have autistic tendencies." – He said slowly. – "It's true that I hate shaking hands; I guess I'm a bit of a germaphobe. I speak fast and spin around on my chair… I also avoid eye-contact a lot and I am the symbol of socially awkward. My mind… it works faster than me. Sometimes, I feel like _I'm_ not a genius just my brain. Does that make sense? So that would look like I'm not paying attention, like I'm totally lost in my thoughts and anything could happen around me without my noticing. Mostly, it's just appearance. I notice more things than you'd think. For example, Ms. Blight, I've noticed you bite your fingernails when you're under stress. You try to hide this fact by having nail enhancements but I can still see your involuntary movements when you _want_ to bite them. You hold back but you twirl your locks instead. Did you know that these are nervous habits often associated with autism as well? Of course, they could simply be bad habits with no serious meaning at all. Just like most of the attributes described in connection with autism. Even professionals tend to fall into the typical trap: they are looking for signs so hard that they _create_ them. Psychiatrists have been known to misdiagnose children because of that. We, profilers, aren't allowed to make that mistake because that could lead to the capture of an innocent and a killer getting away. We don't draw conclusions so easily, especially not without having ample information first. So, Ms. Blight, the answer to your question is: yes, I have habits that can be signs of autism. But no, I don't think I'm an autist, at least definitely not so much so that I would require special assistance. I've been just fine alone and, hopefully, that won't change in the future either. And if I need help, I know who I can turn to. It's not my so-called father."

"Is schizophrenia hereditary?"

"Objection! Doctor Reid is not an expert-"

"It's okay. I know the answer." – Spencer swallowed then shook his head sadly. – "Yes. It is hereditary."

Blight studied him for a moment, self-consciously hiding her hands behind her back. In the end, she turned to the judge.

"Thank you. No more questions, your Honor."

"Great. We'll listen to the closing arguments after lunchbreak. Thirty minutes, everyone."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"I haven't talked about these things with you because I don't want to. And this hasn't changed." – Spencer repeated for the third time, trying to stop his team's worried inquires about his childhood, his mother and most importantly the injuries he had collected during that dark time. – "Can we please just forget the whole testimony?"

"No, Spencer. I'm sorry but we can't."

"Aaron. Let him be for now." – Gideon warned, probably having deduced that a serious outburst would soon arise if they didn't let Spencer breathe a bit.

"All right." – The raven haired man reluctantly agreed but Reid didn't need to be a genius to know that none of them would drop the subject for long.

Garcia opened her mouth to say something but she was cut off by Bull flopping down next to Spencer and patting him on the back.

"I must admit, I really, really didn't want to put you on the stand."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I think it was a brilliant move."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. He had expected a speech about how he'd only have himself to thank for if he lost the case now; how Bull wouldn't take responsibility for the outcome now or how he had ruined everything they had been working on for days in just a few minutes. He definitely hadn't expected a praise.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Despite this last question, the jury loves you! No, not loves: adores! Jurors number 2 and 5 might even be in love."

"Five is a middle-aged man." – Spencer reminded him.

Bull's eyes sparkled.

"I know."

"Yuck…"

"The point is: they love you and there's not much more Blight can say to change that. And Benny is preparing a masterful closing argument. He'll be on last; that will stick with the jury the most. He's a pro at that."

"I just wish I could go home and sleep for a week…"

"Kiddo, listen to me." – Rossi crouched down in front of him and grabbed his cheeks to make sure Spencer was paying attention to him. – "When this is over, we'll let you spend two days in my library without interruption. You can read as many books as you want. No restrictions. So, what do you say? We'll just leave the food for you on the floor and you can wreak havoc."

Spencer smiled through the tears that threatened to fall. Meeting Rossi and falling asleep in his library seemed a lifetime ago. So normal. And so many things had happened since then… He couldn't imagine ever going back to being that innocent kid again.

"Sounds great."

"Son… I mean: Spencer. Can we talk?" – The genius looked up to find his father hovering nervously above him, shooting frightened glances around as if expecting to be attacked by one of the agents. And Spencer had to admit: the worry was more than merited. Morgan, Hotch and Gideon seemed to only wait for the slightest sign to grab the man's throat and strangle him, while Elle was only held back by a still undecided JJ from kicking the man in the spot where it hurt the most. – "Privately." – William Reid added, eyeing Garcia's handbag with trepidation. And rightfully so, since Spencer knew she kept her hidden pepper spray in there.

"Get away from him, or I swear to God I will-"

"Gideon, I thought you were of the opinion the boy can think for himself? So, call off your dog then and let him decide."

"DOG!?"

"Morgan, stand down." – Gideon ordered, glaring at Reid Sr. with disdain. – "It's Spencer's call."

The genius watched the scene and tried to calculate how many seconds his father would last if Gideon let Morgan 'handle' the situation his way. The only problem was: it would be a pity to ruin the immaculate white walls with blood splatters…

"Fine. Let's walk."

"Kid, you don't have to do this."

"I know, Derek."

**BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU * BAU**

"Thank you for hearing me out."

"I didn't say I'd hear you out. I just didn't want Derek to kill you inside the court house in front of so many witnesses. Imagine the paperwork."

They were walking in the park opposite the court, navigating amongst passersby and joggers, all enjoying the warm rays of sunshine of the late autumn. Not far away, at a small but cozy playground, children were running around, playing, and generally being carefree, with not a worry in the world bothering them. Spencer didn't remember ever feeling like that.

His father stopped to watch a small girl of about four years of age swing on a set of climbing bars, her brownish hair sweeping the ground as she was hanging upside down.

"I always wanted to watch you play like that." – He said, echoing Spencer's earlier thoughts.

"I never did."

"No. You didn't." – They continued walking toward the pond in the middle of the park where a couple of old ladies sat, feeding the fish and the pigeons dried bread crumbs and chattering away happily. – "This…" – He motioned to the huge building, ominously casting its shadow at the street. – "… was never my intention."

Spencer couldn't hold the sarcastic snort back.

"What? Filing a law suit against me? Funny how these things just happen on their own…"

"Touché." – Reid Sr. actually smiled a bit as they both instinctively took a left turn to avoid stepping on a sunbathing mallard. – "I'm glad you've learnt to stand up for yourself. I mean it. And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were a kid. It's my fault. I screwed up." – What was there to say to that? At least the man admitted to having made a mistake; that was a start. – "I never knew how bad your mother became… If I had known I'd have… ahm…"

"What? What would you have done?"

"I don't know." – He admitted. – "How did she react when you admitted her to Bennington?"

"Obviously, she wasn't overly impressed with me. Didn't talk to me for three months. After that, she forgot the whole thing. Along with me. I mean, most of the time she doesn't know I even exist, so she's not angry anymore. I guess it's for the best. She's happy now."

"That was an incredibly brave thing to do and, for whatever it's worth, I'm very proud of you, Spencer."

Spencer was ashamed to admit even to himself that it felt ridiculously good to know his father was proud. Why did he even care though?

Not wanting to go there and explore these new, unfamiliar feelings, he changed the subject and asked the question that had been bugging him since he was only ten years old.

"Do you have a new family? Wife, children? Do I have half-brothers or sisters?"

"No. After I left your mother and you… I just… I don't know. I didn't think I could do this again. Also, I didn't think I deserved happiness. Not after what I'd done."

By that time, they had walked around the pond and were headed back into the court house. Their thirty minutes were nearly gone.

"Oh. Well. Was it so bad with us that it scared you for life?" – The genius asked half-joking, half-serious.

"No! Spencer, it wasn't you. It was never you. Granted, having a genius child is… different. But not in a bad way. No, it was… your mother. She was very difficult to live with, you have to understand that. She had these… episodes where I didn't even know what she wanted or why she hated me. Sometimes she would cry for no reason at all. Other times, she didn't speak to me for days." – This, actually, was true. Spencer remembered these incidents very well and in this matter, he could sympathize with his father. Living with a mentally ill person certainly had its challenges. – "I tried to be a good husband, I really did, but it seemed like nothing I did was ever good enough."

"Yeah. It makes sense to just up and leave then. And leave a ten-year-old alone with her…"

They were in the entrance of the courtroom and the clerk was ushering everyone inside. The trial was about to continue with the closing arguments.

As Spencer wanted to walk to his desk, his father grabbed his arm to hold him back.

"Son. Spencer. I am so very sorry, I can't even tell you. I understand that you hate me."

The genius swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and croaked with difficulty.

"You know the most ridiculous thing? I can't even hate you! Anyway. I'm sorry I wasn't the kid you'd wished for…"

With that, he walked away to speak a few words with Benny Colón while his father was pushed into his chair by Blight for a last minute discussion he didn't pay attention to. Instead, there was only one thought occupying his mind:

'_No, son. I am sorry I wasn't the father you deserved.'_


	13. Chapter 13

**Epilogue**

"Would the plaintiff's attorney give her closing argument, please!" – The judge ordered and Blight, who seemed to have gained new energy during recess – probably from at least three cups of bad vending machine coffee – got up to begin her speech.

Before she could utter a word though, Mr. Reid stood and turned to the judge.

"Your Honor, may I speak?"

"You mean, you want to give the closing argument instead of your attorney, Mr. Reid?"

"Yes, your Honor. As you know, I'm an attorney as well. I know the rules."

"Well, it's all right with me. It's your case."

Blight gaped like a fish and William stepped forward to address the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen. The most important thing I want to say is that I love my son. I love him very much. I made an enormous mistake when I left my family so many years ago, and I made another huge mistake when I wanted to repair the first one by filing this lawsuit." – Now, the jury perked up, each of the twelve individuals listening intently. The BAU team members collectively held their breaths in anticipation. – "My son is a brilliant man. A genius. I can't claim to understand his choices but I've realized they are not for me to judge. Would I be happier if he taught at a college, safe and sound, away from the terrors of the world? Certainly. Do I believe he would be a great scientist and could give a lot to the world? Yes, I do. But it's not what he chose for himself; it's not what would make him happy. And I do want him to be happy. If Jason Gideon is the person who can be his father-figure and teach him everything I should have… then with a heavy heart, but I will accept it. It's my own fault he didn't turn to me and wants nothing to have to do with me now." – He turned to the judge. – "Your Honor… I am withdrawing this lawsuit."

There was a sudden buzzing when everyone started to whisper in the room at once. Blight tried to get William's attention to talk to him, probably to get him to let her handle things.

The jurors were openly discussing their opinions among themselves, ignoring every rule there ever was for their roles.

Benny and Bull exchanged triumphant glances, even though Colón seemed to be a bit disappointed not to be able to give his carefully prepared and thoroughly practiced speech.

JJ and Garcia had tears running down their cheeks from happiness, while Elle and Morgan argued about how to celebrate their success and whether or not they should have lots of alcohol on the party. Hotch, Gideon and Rossi stared at Mr. Reid intently, not able to believe what they had just heard and fearing there must surely be a catch to it. Maybe it was just a trap!?

As for Spencer, he didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to feel. The only thing he knew was that he had difficulty breathing, the room was starting to spin and enclose around him, and wanted to get out of here. Fast.

"Mr. Reid, I have to warn you about the rules of voluntary dismissal. Even if you're an attorney, since you usually try criminal cases, I need to make sure you understand what's about to happen if you do this." – The judge warned. – "First of all, since the defendant has already made formal court actions, you'll need his agreement to dismiss the suit. Secondly, and that's very important: you will have the right to bring this case to court only once more. I repeat: only once. Another voluntary dismissal in the matter and you'll lose your right to bring this action to court ever again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your Honor. And I accept it; I won't need the opportunity anymore anyway. Spencer, what do you say we just let this thing drop and walk out of here?"

The genius didn't trust his voice anymore, so he just nodded and let Colón handle the paperwork for him. He couldn't believe it: the nightmare was finally over!

"All right. I thank the jurors for their work. You are dismissed. The case is closed."

Spencer was momentarily lost in the circle of his friends, all congratulating him, patting him on the back and in case of JJ even hugging him. He was too dazed to do any more than just nod and try to smile at them, though he believed it looked more like a grimace than anything else. He was pretty sure he was also crying but somehow, he didn't seem to care about it; mundane things like his non-existing dignity didn't matter anymore.

As they were filing out of the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. Gideon grabbed his arm in worry.

"Kiddo? You all right? Do you need to sit down?"

"Yeah… No… I mean… I just… I need to do something. Meet you outside?"

His mentor looked at him concernedly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?"

"Nah. I'm good. Thank you though."

"Okay. We'll be outside, just by the main gates, waiting for you. If you're not out in ten minutes, I'll come looking for you." – Spencer just smiled at the protectiveness and watched as his friends disappeared one by one, Gideon being the last one to leave the courtroom with a last glance behind his back at his protégé.

Bull and Colón had already left, along with his father's fuming attorney.

It was only him and William Reid in the room.

"I don't think she's very happy with you right now." – The youngest profiler observed. – "She really wanted to give that final performance."

"The grand finale." – William chuckled. – "Well, she'll get over it. The money I'm paying will help her recover, I'm sure."

"Why did you need her anyway? I'm sure you'd have done better without her."

"Yeah… She's not the best, is she? I was thinking about hiring her for my office, and I considered this her job interview. I don't think she passed…"

"Definitely not." – Spencer smiled then quickly sobered. – "We could have spared this."

"Yes, we could have. Again, my fault. I'm sorry. I will reimburse you the costs."

Spencer glared in disbelief.

"It's not about money. It never was. You could have just called."

"Would you have picked up?"

Spencer sighed.

"Touché."

"You're right though. I should have tried to talk to you. Really talk, I mean."

"No. You should have _listened_." – A heavy sigh. – "It's not too late, you know."

Now it was William's turn to stare.

"It's not?"

"Well, you could call me now. It's not like you can't get hold of my phone number… So how about, say, this weekend? Come over, see how I live and things… Obviously, you already know _where_ I live, but nothing more. You could try to get to know _me_. Only if you want, of course."

"Spencer: I would LOVE that."


End file.
